


Rukia's Delivery Service

by KingBirds



Category: Bleach
Genre: Everyone's a monster just roll with it, F/M, Supernatural Halloween AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27156193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingBirds/pseuds/KingBirds
Summary: Rukia's just a little delivery witch trying to get her packages delivered on time. The only monster that can knock her off her broom is the handsome vampire who lives in that lonely manor on the hill.
Relationships: Hitsugaya Toushirou/Kuchiki Rukia, Ichimaru Gin/Matsumoto Rangiku
Comments: 14
Kudos: 42





	Rukia's Delivery Service

Rukia's Delivery Service

_Amazing art by[ginnyofgryffindor ](https://ginnyofgryffindor.tumblr.com/)on tumblr_

* * *

**February 14** **th**

* * *

"Okay, so there are three packages to collect from Funeral Florals in District Three, four from Deadly Delicacies and two special care from Corpse's Cakes in District Eight, and another two from that special bone jeweller in District Seven. The deliveries are spread out over Districts One, Two, Three, Six, Nine and Twelve. Here's the route map."

Rukia took the map from Ukitake and gave it a quick scan. It plotted the best and most efficient route to collect and deliver the packages so she didn't have to visit anyplace more than necessary or loop back too many times.

"Be careful but come back as quick as you can," Ukitake told her. "There's bound to be more last-minute orders after lunch."

The little witch dutifully nodded. She had already made two such trips that morning. She looked over at Sentaro, who was gulping down a bottle of water.

"Kick off together?" she asked.

He capped his bottle and nodded. Together, they collected their brooms and left the office. Rukia tucked the map safely into her carryon and threw a leg over her broom, making sure the carryon bag attached to it was secured properly. She pulled her goggles over her eyes. Their courier uniforms were very simple but easily recognizable. Rukia was wearing a black, dress-like tunic, a dark, long-sleeved undershirt and dark, tight-fitting pants. They were made out of very durable, cold- and moisture-resistant material that had been engineered specifically for their use. It came with buckled up leather boots, a pair of flying goggles, fingerless gloves, and a tall, pointy hat. Rukia usually forewent the hat because she loved how the wind felt as it tore through her hair, although that usually left her hair in a mess. Plus, the hat just added to her air resistance, throwing off her aerodynamics like a sail, and slowing her down. The effect on her speed was probably miniscule but Rukia always wanted to be able to go as fast as she could. Sentaro was wearing this uniform too, but with a shorter tunic and also no hat because his hair was quite short.

Rukia gave a thumbs up to Sentaro on his broom and they both kicked off.

Almost immediately they took off in different directions. On this busy Valentine's Day, Sentaro was handling the orders that had been made in advance. He had a set schedule and time for collections and deliveries and his route map had been printed well in advance, allowing him several breaks in between where he could rest for a few moments. Rukia, on the other hand, was handling all of the last minute orders, the ones that could be called in at any time with instructions that were usually _as soon as possible_ , or _before so and so o'clock_ , or _not before so and so o'clock_. She was doing them in batches, with a new route map generated every time and little to no breaks.

Rukia didn't mind, though, because she _loved_ flying and she loved flying very _fast_ , and last minute orders required her to fly very fast indeed.

This was how her Valentine's Day was going to go but that was fine with her. She would be working overtime, trying to get the right chocolates and flowers to the right sweethearts at the right time, zipping over the Districts like a blur in the sky.

Valentine's Day had been like this since she'd started working for Ukitake's courier service, but, well, it wasn't like she had other plans anyway. Still, for days like this when there would just be no end to the orders, Ukitake made a non-negotiable cut off time of 7:00 pm.

Rukia finished the last of her deliveries a little after seven and glided back into the office, where Sentaro, Ukitake and Kiyone were waiting. She made to pull the gloves off her hands when Ukitake said, "An order just came in." He held it out so they could see it.

The order request form was for a fairly simple job: collect an important package from the hospital district and ferry it over to an address in District Ten that Rukia had never heard of before. In the special notes part of the job form had been a cheekily written request to _send your cutest courier_.

Ukitake stood before her and Sentaro, his eyes moving from the paper in his hands to the only two couriers he had. Rukia and Sentaro exchanged a glance and then Ukitake wordlessly passed the form over to her.

Whether she was the cutest wasn't something Rukia commented on. There was Kiyone, too, but she was only a courier-in-training and hadn't yet mastered broom-flying well enough to make the long journey to the Fourth District or deliver to addresses she had never been to before.

Nevertheless, Rukia hopped on her broom and zoomed over to the hospital, curious to know the person brazen enough to ask for their cutest courier. She figured she was enough to not disappoint. The package itself was a little plastic cooler, the ones that were temperature regulated and that only opened with a special code. This didn't perturb Rukia at all. She often had to collect Ukitake's medication from the hospital and knew that some medicines had to be kept warm or cold during transport. More than that, Rukia had once delivered a whole zombie heart to the neighbouring country for an emergency surgery. Besides, with the number of witches, mad scientists, warlocks and other assorted monsters she delivered to and from on a daily basis, she was sure that even if it came out of the hospital, it still couldn't be the strangest thing she had ever delivered.

It took her a while to find the address. She had delivered to District Ten before, but never in this area. The address was on a street that veered off from a side road and as she continued down it, looking out for the little mailbox with the house number, she realized that there were no other houses on this street. It was just a deserted narrow road with vegetated land for as far as she could see on either side. Eventually, she reached the end of the road, which was blocked by a tall and imposing black gate with a rather cute red mailbox hanging from it. Behind the gate was a long brick path that wound up a steep hill. On the top of the hill Rukia could see a very old looking mansion that, even from where she was, appeared abandoned.

Following the instructions she had been given, Rukia flew over the gate and up the path, grateful that she was flying up the almost vertical hill and not walking up it. She came to a stop before the front porch steps and took a good look at the house. It was built in that gothic style that had been popular a few centuries ago, with dark trim, concrete pillars and elaborately carved facades. It looked like it was a few hundred years old, too, covered in moss and vines and peeling paint. The whole place was dark, with nary a porchlight on in the approaching dusk. It gave off a strange chill, too, which Rukia could tell wasn't just a consequence of impending nightfall. Strange, but not as strange as Kurotsuchi's laboratory so Rukia didn't bat an eye.

Nimbly, she hopped off her broom, pushed her goggles onto her head, gathered the package in her arms, and walked up the front stairs. The double doors were tall enough to accommodate pretty much any monster out there, and they towered over her. They had antique brass knockers in the shape of a dragon's head and they squeaked loudly when Rukia lifted them, like they hadn't been used in years. A single clang of the heavy knockers was all it took and before long, she heard footsteps approaching.

Though she wasn't bothered, Rukia was trying to wrap her mind around the idea of a person who could ask for their cutest courier while also living in a house like this. She tried not to be too judgemental, but in their society, appearances counted for rather a lot. Werewolves built nests and howled at the moon, witches liked cauldrons and brooms and cute familiars, zombies were the undead and so on.

Before the doors opened, an old and clouded lamp turned on above her head, throwing a warm glow over the porch. With a heavy groan, one door was slowly pulled open. Whatever Rukia had been expecting to be standing in the doorway was not what was actually standing there.

It was a woman who Rukia only needed to glance at to see that she was very beautiful, the kind of beautiful that she saw only on the models that were on the cover pages of Monster's Bazaar. She was tall, with long strawberry blonde hair falling in carefully coifed waves behind her back. She was wearing a bright pink, latex suit that curved perfectly over her body, lapels opening in a deep _v_ over her chest, with perfect nude stiletto boots. She looked at Rukia with a very cat-like smile, blue eyes lighting up. Behind her, something thin and pointed whipped over her shoulder, causing Rukia's mouth to fall open.

This woman was a _succubus_.

"Oh, you _are_ cute," the woman exclaimed, knocking Rukia out of her stupor. She blinked owlishly, causing the woman's smile to tilt evermore upward.

Shaking herself a little, Rukia held the cooler out in front of her. "Your package," she said.

The woman laughed. "Oh no, honey. I ordered it but it's not for me. Why don't you come inside?" And she moved to the side, gesturing Rukia into the entranceway.

Somewhat confused, Rukia walked into the house.

The inside of the house didn't look like the outside at all. It was still antique and outdated but it was clean and very well-maintained. It was actually closer to the house Rukia had grown up in than she had realized, like it had stood here for countless years and still remained unchanged.

"What's your name?" the woman asked her as she pushed the door close and began to lead Rukia into the house.

"Rukia," she replied uncertainly, looking curiously at the pink, pointed tail that followed behind the woman.

"I'm Rangiku, but my friends call me Ran," she said and gave Rukia a wink. "And you're a witch, right?" Rangiku asked her. "We watched you fly in."

"Oh," Rukia's head jerked up. "Ah, yeah, I am."

Rangiku stopped by a door and knocked lightly. "Tōshirō," she called. "We're coming in."

The room was a study, Rukia guessed, trailing in behind Rangiku. It had panelled walls and built-in bookcases stuffed neatly with books. There was an ornate fireplace, a wide rug, and a desk that was piled high and wide with stacks of paper by a window that faced the front of the house. It was through this window Rukia assumed her flying had been watched. There were two armchairs and a sofa centred in the room around a small table. Sat in one of the chairs was the Tōshirō person Rukia guessed the package was for. Curiously, she leaned out from behind Rangiku to get a good look at him and felt her heart catch in her throat.

Rukia didn't believe in love at first sight but _attraction_ at first sight was a thing that most definitely existed. Tōshirō was young, younger than Rangiku but probably around Rukia's age. He had stark white hair like Ukitake did, the kind that just couldn't be achieved by even the best of potions. Unlike Ukitake's, though, it stood up in thick spikes around his head, like he had run his hands through it one too many times. It left his entire face open—and what a handsome face it was, the kind that, like Rangiku's, seemed to have been carefully arranged with features that just fit perfectly together. But the thing that caught her attention and jumbled her organs around was his eyes, because they were the most striking thing she had ever seen, a kind of blue-green she couldn't even name, and they were looking right at her, a small frown dipping between them.

Those eyes slipped off of her and landed on the woman in front of her. "What is this? I told you to collect it at the door. Why did you bring her _inside_?"

It was unfair that his voice was also attractive—youthful, but with a decidedly deep timbre that could shake bones if it was used the right way.

"And _I_ told you I have a date to get to," Rangiku retorted. "And since I can't leave you alone, I figured…" she stepped aside to fully reveal Rukia, her arms gesturing at the girl in a way that was clearly meant to convey obviousness.

Tōshirō's frown deepened and Rukia found herself looking between him and Rangiku, confused.

"Rangiku—"

"I'm sorry, what?" Rukia blinked up at the woman, who grinned unapologetically.

"I asked that this be your last delivery of the day, right?" the woman asked. That was true, but the actual words had been, since it would be a long and out-of-the-way delivery route, and the delivery wasn't urgent, that she could do this trip last, so it didn't affect any of the other deliveries on the busy Valentine's Day.

"And, as per your advertisement, you promised to make sure that the package is delivered _exactly_ where it needs to go, and you'll do everything you can to make sure it does."

Actually, the wording on that wasn't exactly right either, but Sentaro had been the one to handle the advertisement, and that was something he had included for the sake of grandiose. No one was expected to really take them up on it.

Rukia looked at Rangiku blankly, then at Tōshirō, who was still frowning at the woman, and walked forward, setting the cooler primly down on the table. She met the man's eyes. "There," she said.

Behind her, Rangiku laughed. "Oh, I _like_ you," she said, amused. "But no, that doesn't go there," she pointed at the cooler, "The thing inside," she lifted her finger to point at Tōshirō, "Goes to him. Specifically, it goes _in_ him." She wagged her finger at the two of them provocatively. "And it needs to go into him tonight," she added, her grin now wide enough to reveal two neat rows of pearly teeth.

Before Rukia could react to that obvious innuendo, Tōshirō had gotten to his feet. "Rangiku," he said sharply, and then almost immediately doubled over, a shaky hand grasping onto the armrest. He sank back into the chair, face pale, eyes a little bloodshot.

Rukia gaped at him but Rangiku clicked her tongue, moving over to push him back gently. "Could you take it easy for five seconds?" she scolded.

Tōshirō, who seemed a little recovered now, grumbled something that to Rukia sounded like, _if you didn't keep trying to kill me_.

Rangiku sighed and stood back up. She looked over at Rukia. "Rukia, could you open that thing for me? The code is two, zero, one, two."

Keeping an eye on the man who now appeared to be sulking in his chair, Rukia punched the code in. In the meantime, Rangiku walked over to the desk and pulled open a drawer, returning with something shiny in her hand.

The cooler lid popped open and Rukia peered inside. There, nestled in some cooling packs, was a bag of deep red blood. Rukia's eyes widened, snapping up to look at Tōshirō. He was already watching her, face drawn and guarded but eyes unreadable.

Rangiku came over and plucked the bag of blood out of the cooler, sticking the shiny metal straw she had into the spot where the intravenous line usually went. She turned and unceremoniously handed it to Tōshirō, who took it with a look of disdain.

"Rukia, Tōshirō here is part vampire," Rangiku explained. "He has to drink that entire thing tonight. Usually, I stick around to make sure he does, or that something doesn't go wrong, but, as you can see—" she gestured to her outfit, "—I have a date tonight, so I was hoping you would stick around instead."

"Vampire?" Rukia said dumbly, unable to take her eyes away from the man who was holding the bag of blood like _it_ would bite _him_. "I thought they were rare?"

Tōshirō snorted. "Rare doesn't mean they don't exist," he scoffed.

Rukia bristled. "I know what rare means, you mosquito," she retorted before she could stop herself. She would kick herself if she could—this was _not_ how you treated a new customer—but was a little gratified at the shock that flickered over his face.

Rangiku's Cheshire grin returned. "You two will get along splendid," she said with a clap of her hands. "I promise, it doesn't take him more than two hours to get through the bag, and he's usually good company once you get used to him. If you can do this for us, Rukia, I promise we'll keep using Ukitake's courier service, and we'll recommend you to all of our friends."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," Tōshirō snapped at her. "And I don't have any friends."

Rangiku ignored him, giving Rukia incredible pleading eyes. Rukia was tempted to say no but then looked over at Tōshirō again. He was looking at her with a raised eyebrow, like he was already sure she was going to refuse and was just waiting for her to prove him right. She narrowed her eyes at him and then looked back at Rangiku with a pretty smile.

"I'd be happy to," she said brightly. "But I charge extra for things like this."

"Deal!" Rangiku squealed, reaching over to clasp Rukia's hands in her own.

"Oi!" Tōshirō scowled at the woman. "It's not your money."

"Don't mind him," Rangiku waved carelessly. "He's just grumpy 'cause he's anaemic. You just need to stay here and make sure he finishes it. He has to drink it all before the sun rises, so as long as he starts early, it shouldn't be a problem."

Rukia nodded, still a little baffled, but she had dug her feet here and there was no changing that now.

"Alright, I have to go now," Rangiku pulled away, looking back at Tōshirō. "You better start that before I leave so I know you won't cause trouble for Rukia," she said, eyes narrowing.

Tōshirō glared at her but obligingly put the end of the straw in his mouth and took a sip. Rukia could hear the squelch of the congealed blood suck up the straw and couldn't help the grimace she made, which was nothing compared to the face of the person doing the drinking. Tōshirō looked like he was going to die.

"Good boy," Rangiku teased him playfully and he rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm off now. I'll bring your broom in for you," she told Rukia. "Feel free to use anything in this room, if books are your fancy, or the kitchen and bathroom that's just across the hall."

Tōshirō pulled his mouth away from the straw. "Again, those aren't your things."

"If you need anything you can ask Tōshirō," Rangiku went on like he hadn't spoken. "You can leave as soon as he's done, he should be in a better mood by then so feel free to charge whatever you like for your service."

Tōshirō didn't bother to comment this time but Rukia saw him roll his eyes again.

"Sayonara," Rangiku sang cheerfully. She was out the door before her hand caught the frame and she leaned back inside. She shot a grin at Tōshirō. "And Happy Valentine's Day." And with that she was gone. Rukia heard the door open and waited a few moments before it closed again with an oddly final click.

She and Tōshirō stared at one another in the sudden silence. Whatever had been running through her veins when she had agreed to this was gone now because Rukia didn't know what she was doing. It must have shown on her face because Tōshirō scoffed and looked away, settling back into his chair like a petulant child. Reluctantly, he put the straw back into his mouth, not even flinching this time as he sipped.

Awkwardly, Rukia moved to sit in the chair across from him. It was a nice chair, soft and comfortable and she tried to relax into it. Tōshirō was steadily ignoring her. But that was fine with her, because now she could blatantly stare at him. He was still as attractive as she had thought he was the first time, and his grumpy attitude didn't turn her off at all. Though he did look a little sickly with his pale skin, the blood he was drinking was already working on pinking his face. He was actually not so fragile-looking, with broad shoulders and hands with sturdy fingers. When he had stood she had seen that he was at least half a head taller than she was—but this was still short enough for broom flying, she mused. He was dressed very mundanely, in dark grey slacks and a navy blue wool sweater, but damn if it didn't look good on him. Rukia could see why it took him two hours to drink the one bag of blood: it didn't flow easily through the straw and he kept pulling off, like he needed a break. Rukia supposed she could understand this—she didn't think she'd enjoy it either.

"I'm sorry I called you a mosquito," she said suddenly, grinning when his eyes flickered over to her. "I know vampires don't really _only_ have to drink blood anymore," she went on, "And it wasn't a nice thing to say."

Some five hundred years or so ago, a warlock had found the gene that made vampires dependant on blood to survive and had developed a therapy that turned that gene off. As it turned out, blood dependence was a complete dominance thing, so just turning off the dominant allele made it possible for vampires to eat like a regular monster. Because it took far more blood to feed a vampire than even the most willing donors could donate them, most law-abiding vampires back then had taken the therapy, and since the effect of the therapy was heritable, over time, vampires who needed to drink blood became rare. A few blood-sucking vampires still existed though, either because someone in their ancestry hadn't received the therapy or because of a defunct 'normal' gene that left them no choice. Rukia wasn't sure which kind Tōshirō was, but Rangiku had called him _part_ vampire, which was interesting.

He grunted at her apology, but turned in her direction marginally.

There was only so much silence Rukia could take, though, and she became quite bored watching the man slowly sip away at the bag.

"I've never had to deliver in this part of District Ten," she said conversationally. "It took a really long time to find this place."

Tōshirō turned his face to her, the straw falling from his mouth. He gave her a blank look. "You're not being paid to talk," he said flatly.

Rukia gave him a bright smile. "It comes free of charge," she said sweetly.

His eyes narrowed fractionally but he avoided responding by taking another sip.

"This house seems very old," Rukia went on, looking up at the raised ceiling. "How long have you lived here?"

"All my life," he replied shortly.

"Oh," Rukia said. She didn't know what to think about that. This house was nice and big and the man was clearly not worried about money, but there was something sad about the thought of him living here in this cold and dark place alone. Well, she supposed he had Rangiku, and he must go out sometime, though if he had inherited the wrong vampire genes then maybe he didn't.

"Well, I used to live in District Six," she said, trying to force some cheer into the room. "My family lives in that district. Actually, my brother-in-law is descended from vampires, but he's non-dependent, so I doubt you can call him one. Still has the fangs, though. My sister _loves_ that."

Tōshirō didn't appear to be paying attention to her.

"I live in District Thirteen now," she went on. "I moved to work for Ukitake. Not many flying witches around anymore, so it's just a handful of us in the business."

Once again, Tōshirō didn't respond. Rukia didn't like the stifling silence but she hated being ignored even more. Dispirited, she tried one more time:

"I hope Rangiku's having fun on her date."

Tōshirō snorted quietly. He gave Rukia a pointed look. "Very kind of you, considering she just assumed _you_ didn't have any plans," he said drily.

Rukia couldn't help her triumphant grin. She shrugged. "She wasn't wrong," she admitted. "Being a courier on Valentine's Day is the same as being a waiter in a restaurant. We just don't get the day off. The only days bigger than this for us are Christmas and Mother's Day."

"Really?" Tōshirō asked, looking like he was curious in spite of himself.

Rukia nodded. "Yeah. I've made deliveries to kids practically under their Christmas trees. Delivered a gourmet breakfast to one mother's bedroom once. Earlier today, I had to break into a guy's apartment to courier a diamond ring to a proposal in a completely different district in fifteen minutes."

Tōshirō raised an eyebrow, a clear sign for her to elaborate. So Rukia told him about the strange order and how the customer had planned to propose by distracting his boyfriend by fireworks that read: _Will you marry me?_ and then being on his knees with the ring when his boyfriend turned back around. Problem was, he had left the ring at home and only realized when the fireworks were about twenty minutes away from going off. Panicked, the guy had called Ukitake in a rush and begged him to send his fastest courier. He didn't really care how they got into his apartment—he'd deal with it later, they just had to get there in time. Ukitake's fastest courier was Rukia, and she had broken a window, shimmered inside, retrieved the box from where he'd said it would be, and then sped over. She had zoomed so fast that no one really saw her. The fireworks had gone off, the boyfriend had been sufficiently distracted, and Rukia had dropped the box over the anxious guy as she whizzed past overhead. He had just barely caught it before he dropped to his knees to pop the question.

"How romantic," Tōshirō deadpanned, but with maybe the barest trace of a smile. The bag of blood was about halfway empty now.

"Maybe," Rukia agreed. "But a little too extravagant for my tastes. I don't really like being put on the spot like that, and where lots of people can see me. Takes away from the intimateness, I think."

Tōshirō cocked his head at her. "You should tell your boyfriend that," he advised blandly.

"Oh, I definitely would," she said readily, "If I had one."

Tōshirō gave a subtle look that Rukia almost missed. She practically preened on the inside. "Like I said, with so few of us, I don't get a lot of free time. Boyfriends require free time."

The man gave her a thoughtful look. He was kind of adorable, sitting there like a grown-up with a serious face but sucking on a straw sticking out from a liquid bag. She supposed he could empty the thing into a glass or something but the mess involved would be unappealing.

"What do you do for a living?" Rukia asked him.

He seemed a bit taken aback by the abrupt question but Rukia had talked a lot about herself. She figured it was only fair he tell her some things too.

"I write," he said plainly, and then took a look at her face. "No, I don't write novels. I write reports. I'm an analyst."

Well, that explained the stacks of paper on his desk.

"How…interesting," she said slowly.

He snorted. "Spare me," he told her. "I don't like going outside. This suits me just fine."

Rukia hummed, wondering if she should take him at his word. How different they were. Sometimes Rukia barely got to see her own home. But she loved her job because it took her all over, to new places, to new people. She couldn't imagine staying inside for something like indefinitely.

"Don't give me that look," Tōshirō snapped lightly at her.

She smiled sheepishly but tried to move on. "What kinds of reports do you write?" she asked.

Tōshirō wasn't much of a talker but he still carefully explained the nature of his work. Rukia tried to follow but in the end all she really retained was that it involved a lot of math. Still, she listened to him attentively, easily carried away by his gravelly but soothing voice. He had a very flat, matter of fact way of saying things that Rukia really liked because it made deviations from his deadpan all the more noticeable, like when he frowned or curled his lip at something he didn't like.

He had just wrapped up telling her about the most recent report he had written, which had been about data that correlated pumpkin season with zombiefication—"I can't really tell you any details yet, but let's just say zombies appear more frequently when people start putting pumpkins out on their stoops."—when he leaned over to take a sip and found the bag empty.

They both started at the vacuumed sound the empty bag made, and Tōshirō slowly let the straw fall out of his mouth.

Had it really already been two hours? Rukia took a glance outside the window, where the sky was already dotted with stars.

She blinked, splaying her hands out on her knees, preparing to stand. "Well, it's late—"

"I'll walk you out," Tōshirō said, carefully laying the now empty bag on the table. Rukia raised her eyebrows at him but then smiled.

"You really are nicer now," she giggled.

He gave her a heatless glare. "Just don't take advantage of it when you ask for your payment," he grumbled.

Rukia stood up and stretched, feeling her bones loosen up inside her. "Nah, it's alright," she said magnanimously. "On the house. You still have to pay for the delivery, though."

Tōshirō also got to his feet, giving her a measured look. "Alright," he said, and held out the cooler to her. "I also need you to return this to the hospital, but it can wait until tomorrow."

Rukia took it and nodded, yawning a little.

He walked her out to the front door where she collected her broom from where Rangiku had lain it against the wall. Rukia was happy to let him open the heavy door because she wasn't sure she would be able to and it was an excellent example of learning what his strength was and she enjoyed watching the subtle movement of muscle that she could see from under is sweater as he pulled on the door handle.

He followed her all the way down the front steps, watching as she expertly swung a leg over her broom, fingers flexing with familiarity on the handle.

"So long, mosquito," she grinned at him cheerfully before kicking off, shooting into the air. She had just enough time to see the expression that crossed his face, his mouth dropping open to say something, before she was too far away to see him at all.

Rukia gave a very witch-like cackle as she zoomed off and wondered if he heard it.

* * *

 **March 14** **th**

* * *

For the next four weeks, Rukia had thought that that was it, a strange one-time delivery that they had only needed her to make because Rangiku had a date. She wasn't sure how often Tōshirō needed his blood pack but if he had been living there all of his life and he rarely left the house then surely they had a routine way of getting it before her, so she could only assume the courier service had been called upon because Rangiku was busy that night.

She didn't have any deliveries, regular or otherwise, that took her to that part of District Ten—which made sense since she was sure Tōshirō's was the only house for a good few miles. But she couldn't help looking in that direction whenever she _was_ in District Ten, even if the speed of her broom only really let her see things from the side in a blur. Unfortunately, her schedule didn't allow her to just swing by either, and that would have been weird anyway. A little conversation and blood sipping did not an unexpected visit make.

Rukia thought all of this was a great shame because she found herself really wishing she could see him again. So she was surprised, but not at all disappointed, when Ukitake handed her the request for the same job, exactly a month after the first one. In the special notes section had been written: _Send Rukia_. The rest of the instructions had been exactly the same.

Rukia had waited until all of her other deliveries were done for the day and then collected the cooler from the hospital. She was a little surprised to see that it was the exact same one that she had collected and then dropped off before. So this cooler must basically belong to Tōshirō and she had been right—they must have been doing this for a while. She wondered if Rangiku had another date.

She zipped over to the manor—because, though she'd only really seen one room and she'd been calling it a house, it was really a _manor_. She had looked it up. She was confident enough this time to take her elevation higher, completely ignoring the streets and just flying overhead. When it came into view her stomach gave an unusual lurch, something she hadn't felt since the first time she'd ridden a broom.

She touched down at the front steps (it was rude to fly up to a person's door) and tucked her broom under her arm this time before making her way up the stairs. She looked over at the window for the front study but the angle didn't let her see much. In a moment of rare self-consciousness, Rukia tried to smooth down her hair. She wasn't sure if it made a difference but she tried. She knocked with the dragon knocker once and then waited.

She was expecting to see Rangiku again, dressed like she collected hearts for a living and ready for a night on the town…or whatever people did when they went on dates, Rukia didn't know.

Instead, the door opened to reveal Tōshirō, who looked pale and a little worse for wear, but still better than he had been the first time, hair pulled back by an elastic band that wrapped around the crown of his head, wearing a black apron with the words _Dare to kiss this chef?_ embroidered on the front, dusting of flour very clearly visible on the dark material, with a little red splash of something on his cheek—not blood, Rukia thought it looked like the watery juice of a tomato.

Rukia's mouth dropped open a little bit. Tōshirō appeared not to notice.

"Oh good, you're here," he said, immediately stepping aside. "Come in."

Rukia followed him in, unable to stop herself from noticing the way the strings of the apron tied around his waist. He didn't lead her to the study, instead taking her into the room immediately opposite. It was a kitchen, with the same high ceilings and wood-panelled walls, but with cupboards all around, a little dining table, an island with bar stools, and equipment and appliances that thankfully did not look like they had come with the original house.

On the stovetop was a cast-iron pan that was bubbling something very tasty looking and smelling—it was a tomato sauce with chunks of tomato that were quickly melting away with springs of rosemary or thyme or whatever and the heady smell of roasted garlic. On one countertop were a few neat piles of dough ribbons and a few balls of soft dough. Another pot was going with boiling water.

"You're making dinner?" Rukia asked, surprised. She thought _she_ had just brought him his dinner.

"Yes," he said, quickly washing his hands in the sink. "For you."

Rukia started. For her? Not that she minded, she was more than willing to eat whatever smelt that good, but she was beyond confused. Tōshirō easily read her face.

"Rangiku scolded me for last time," he said, a frowning and a little sheepish. "Since I kept you so long, you missed dinner and I didn't offer you anything."

"Oh." That was rather nice of them, but it wasn't completely necessary, since she was still doing a job after all. She placed the cooler carefully on the island, watching as he deftly rolled out a ball of dough into a thin sheet. Rukia found herself entranced by the movement of his hands.

"You seem better today than you were the last time," she observed curiously. His whole body froze and Rukia's eyes flickered up to his face. He seemed to swallow.

"Rangiku helped a little with that," he murmured before resuming his actions.

Rukia blinked at him. She couldn't figure out what he was saying when he talked about tangents and trends but she understood what he had just said, at least.

"That's nice of her," she offered and then looked around. "Where is she, anyway?"

"She went out," he replied. "She just left, you must have missed her on the road."

"Hmm, I didn't see the road," she said. He looked up at her, eyes narrowing, Rukia looked back innocently.

Eventually, he just huffed and went back to work. It soon became apparent, however, that whatever little boost Rangiku had given him was wearing off. Because she was staring at his hands, Rukia saw exactly when he began to shake, the sharp knife he was handling tittering dangerously.

"Maybe you should stop and have some of this," she said quickly, nudging the cooler a little.

Tōshirō quickly put the knife down. He made sure to wash his hands before rummaging in a drawer for a metal straw while Rukia punched in the code Rangiku had given to her before. She stepped back and watched as he punctured the bag and took his first sip, which seemed to be the worst part, judging by the look of disgust that crossed his face. She winced along with him, feeling suddenly grateful on Byakuya's behalf that he didn't have to go through something like this.

Tōshirō sank into one of the island stools, looking exhausted. He gave her an apologetic look. "Just give me a moment, I'll be alright in a minute."

Rukia took in his tense shoulders and the thin sheen of sweat that had covered his brow and shook her head. "I think you should finish that," she said firmly.

Tōshirō frowned at her. "What about dinner?"

As if on cue, a bubble in the tomato sauce popped loudly. It was clearly being overheated now and Tōshirō moved to get up.

"I don't think so," Rukia moved in, placing both hands on his shoulders and pushing him back. She barely registered the way his eyes widened before she was making her way over to the pan. "I'll handle it, just tell me what to do."

Tōshirō hesitated but then said, "Take the heat down and let it simmer, if it seems too dry you can add a bit of water."

"Simmer? Too dry? A bit? These are too vague descriptions, Tōshirō, I need more than that," Rukia told him bluntly, her fingers hovering over the stove dials.

He made to get up again and Rukia pointed a firm finger at his face. "Sit down," she said, so sternly that he immediately sat. "Be a good boy and drink up. Just tell me what to do _exactly_."

Tōshirō swallowed down whatever retort he had and said, "Turn the middle dial counter clockwise—that's to your _left,_ not your right. No, too much, go back a little, little more. You went too far, go back a bit, again. Okay, that's good. See those measuring cups hanging there? Take the one that says a quarter cup—okay, take the one that's second from the left and fill it with water from the sink. Good, now pour it in slowly— _slowly_ , you'll splash it. Okay, now mix it a little with that spoon over there. Okay good."

When that was done, Rukia turned to face the unfinished noodles on the counter, giving him a questioning look. Tōshirō frowned, clearly contemplating whether he should let her continue his work.

"Wash your hands first," he gave in. "And grab an apron. They're in that cupboard over there."

The apron Rukia pulled out was like the one Tōshirō was still wearing but white. Embroidered across the front of this one were the words: _Only I dare to kiss that chef_. Rukia threw him an impish grin as she tied the straps around her—they were a bit long so she wrapped them around her back and then tied them at the front.

Tōshirō gave her a flat look. "Rangiku bought those," he explained. "They're a pair."

"I guess that makes us also a pair," Rukia teased. Tōshirō didn't answer her but he did smile a little, so she didn't mind.

Patiently, he talked her through rolling out the rest of the dough, dusting everything it came into contact with with flour and then carefully folding the dough into layers. He guided her through cutting the layers into strips to make folded ribbons of pasta, and then salting the water and making sure it was boiling before carefully dropping the pasta in.

Rukia was not a cook by any means, though she loved to eat food, but she was sure that the whole process was made a little more difficult by Tōshirō's need to be precise about everything. He made her wash her hands at almost every step, even though she had pointed out to him numerous times that only she was going to be eating it and she didn't touch anything but the food anyway. There was a very specific thickness the dough had to be rolled to, and the layers had to be the same number every time, and the strips of pasta all had to be cut at the same width, and all manner of other things she had to do.

Somehow, in the end, while he sat there and sipped away at his blood, Rukia managed to put the meal together. It was when he made her tidy up (just a little, he didn't actually make her clean anything) that she realized he was probably greatly enjoying ordering her around. By the time she had all but collapsed onto the stool beside him, she was well and truly hungry.

Tōshirō's blood bag was about half gone. It gave her enough time to eat and chat with him a little, though the conversation revolved around her and what she had done for the past month. According to Tōshirō, things with him never really changed.

Rukia had just dragged her last bit of pasta through the last of the delicious tomato sauce, chewing on it thoughtfully and swallowing before she turned to him and said, "So, is Rangiku, like, your caretaker?"

Tōshirō snorted quietly. "She's my assistant," he said. "She runs errands for me outside the house and takes care of other things, as need be."

"Like that?" Rukia asked, pointing at the blood bag.

"Yeah," he replied slowly.

"And earlier today…?"

He grimaced, but pulled the straw away and seemed to deliberate for a moment. "These bags are new," he said at last. "Before that, Rangiku would offer her blood. She's a succubus, blood loss isn't that big of a deal to her. The thing is, it can be a little…intimate." He shifted uncomfortably and Rukia raised an eyebrow. "You have to be careful from where you take blood from a person," he explained. "There are very few places where it's safe to, like the neck or the wrist. This, thankfully, didn't really bother Rangiku and after a while, I got over it too."

"But…" Rukia rolled her hand in the air, asking him to go on.

"She started dating someone," he said, "Nice guy, good to her. But he has a habit of leaving… _things_ on her body."

A giggle escaped Rukia. "Like hickies?" she asked. "Or _bite marks_ , perhaps?"

Tōshirō gave her an unimpressed look. "I just thought it would be in poor taste to continue," he grumbled.

Rukia grinned wider. "Poor taste," she echoed, greatly amused.

"And I thought it would be good to give her some space," he continued, ignoring her. "I don't want to get in the way of her budding relationship. She only insisted today because she knew I'd be moving around making dinner before you came."

Rukia propped her elbow on the countertop and rested her hand in her palm, looking at him thoughtfully. He was in the middle of a sip, cheeks bulging slightly, and she lifted a finger and poked him in the cheek facing her. He spluttered but managed to pull away without spilling any blood. He gave her a glare.

"That's very considerate of you," she said kindly. "I'm sure she appreciates it."

Tōshirō's eyes slid over her face, causing Rukia's entire body to freeze. They moved away from her quickly, though, and landed on the bag in his hands. He grimaced. "Yeah, but I'm now stuck with this," he sighed.

"Is it that bad?" she asked curiously.

"It's terrible," he said readily. "I don't think I can describe it and not throw up."

"Oh," Rukia winced. "Maybe we should talk about something else, then," she suggested, not really looking forward to what bloody vomit looked like.

Tōshirō gave her a long-suffering smile. Rukia felt a little bad.

"Is it better?" she asked hesitantly. "I mean, when it's…fresh?"

He shrugged. "It probably tastes the same to me as it does to you," he said, "But it's warm. And it doesn't have clumps." They both shuddered.

"You could reheat it?" she offered dubiously.

As expected, he shook his head. "It's even worse that way. Like reheated fries. Believe it or not, it's better cold. At least it's less… _tasteful_ when it's cold."

Rukia considered all of this. She found that she wanted to suggest something that would make it marginally better but she knew there was nothing to say. It was what it was.

"Sounds like it sucks."

He smirked at her, the side of his mouth tilting up. "Literally."

She gave him a small shove. Her eyes were watching the level of blood in the bag go down. There were only a few sips left, probably.

"Why don't you like going outside?" she asked suddenly.

He looked over at her, a little surprised. "I just don't," he shrugged.

"Because of the sun?"

"No," he rolled his eyes. "That myth and the one about garlic is rubbish," he said, gesturing at her empty plate. "I'm just too busy."

"Ah," Rukia brought her other elbow up on the countertop, cradling her head in her palms. "For me, it's the opposite. I spend most of my time outside. I'm too busy to go _inside_."

"But you like your job," he stated.

She grinned at him. "I do," she agreed. "Trust me, nothing beats being able to fly. Not sex, not money, not winning Monopoly, nothing."

"You've clearly never won at Monopoly," he muttered under his breath, and Rukia _desperately_ wanted to retort that he had clearly never had sex if _Monopoly_ was the thing he found worth arguing about, but she held herself back, biting her tongue in the process.

"Clearly, you win all the time," she said instead, voice flat.

"I suspect I would," he nodded, voice matter-of-fact but not arrogant. "A lot of the data analysis I do for my work can be applied to the game. Unfortunately, I don't play that often. Rangiku finds it incredibly boring, especially the way I play."

There wasn't any particular intonation in his voice but Rukia felt a pang for him. In that moment, he appeared very lonely to her.

"I'll play with you," she blurted before she could catch herself, surprising herself and Tōshirō. His shocked eyes locked onto hers.

"I mean," she cleared her throat, "If we ever had the opportunity, I would play with you."

Despite the fact that they were sitting in his kitchen having dinner and this felt more like a _date_ than anything, Rukia was still technically on a job, and this wasn't a social visit. She had to remember that, mostly because she couldn't go around making promises when she wasn't sure when she would see him again. It clearly seemed that she was their go-to for the delivery now whenever Rangiku was busy but that couldn't be a scheduled thing, and it was up in the air when she would be called again. After all, it had been a whole month between both deliveries. It was really up to Tōshirō to decide when he wanted to see her again. The ball was in his court.

To her surprise, he chuckled. It was a brief and quiet sound but it was the first real laugh she had heard from him. It rang in her ears and tickled her insides.

"I might take you up on that," he said, his smile a lot more genuine and relaxed. Rukia mirrored his smile, and it was this scene, the two of them smiling at each other, sitting close together at the kitchen island, the atmosphere comfortable and relaxed, that Rangiku walked in on.

Rukia had no idea she was even in the house until the other woman laughed from the doorway.

The two of them sprang apart, Rukia catching herself on the island overhang so she didn't slide off her seat. Rangiku was standing there, dressed fashionably in faded blue jeans, a tight white T-shirt and red heels. Her arms were hung with shopping bags.

"Hullo, loves," she greeted pleasantly, striding into the room and depositing her bags on the table. She threw a glance over the dishes in the sink and the remains of their dinners on the kitchen island. "I'm back from the Monster Night Market. I see you two got along fine. Nice to see you again, Rukia," she winked at the other girl.

Rukia gave her a warm smile. "Nice to see you too," she said, and then added, a little confused, "I didn't hear you come in?" The front doors were just too heavy, there was no way Rukia wouldn't have heard it.

Rangiku chuckled, but didn't answer, reaching into a bag to retrieve some red slippers.

"She's a succubus," Tōshirō explained, "She can move through walls."

"Can't open doors when your hands are full," she said cheerily. "Did you two have fun?" Rangiku asked, reaching down to slip her heels off, stepping into the much more comfortable-looking and practical slippers.

Tōshirō frowned at her but Rukia beat him to a response.

"Yup!" she said, enthused. She caught Tōshirō's raised eyebrow with a grin. "Dinner was nice," she said to him but she looked over at Rangiku when she added, "Thank you."

"You're very welcome," the woman replied, pointedly having the conversation over Tōshirō's head. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Tōshirō grumbled. "I got it."

"Well," Rukia said delicately, pushing herself away from the counter with both hands and eyeing the empty blood bag. "I guess I should get going."

Rangiku and Tōshirō both frowned at her.

"Aww, so soon?" Rangiku pouted.

Rukia shrugged but smiled apologetically. She collected her empty plate and placed it carefully in the sink. When she turned back around she caught the tail end of what appeared to be a heated facial expression conversation between the two. She raised an eyebrow when they both quickly blanked their faces and snapped back to her. She pointed at the cooler still on the table.

"Should I take that back?" she asked.

"Would you?" Rangiku asked. "It would save me the trip tomorrow. You can just add the fee to our account."

"Sure." Rukia collected the cooler.

From where he still sat, Tōshirō said, "Rangiku will walk you out."

The woman cleared her throat, pointedly gathering up her shopping bags. Tōshirō turned back to Rukia.

" _I_ will walk you out."

Rukia wanted to laugh but just smiled broadly as he led her back to the front door. She took her broom from where she had leaned it against the wall in the entryway, hopping onto it at the foot of the stairs. Rukia tilted her head back to look up at the night sky, where the full moon hung like a large white pearl.

She looked back at Tōshirō, surprised to find that his eyes were already on her. It could have just been the darkness around them but she could have sworn that his pupils had expanded in size against his blue-green irises.

"I'll be going now," she said, her voice stuttering just a tiny bit.

He nodded and then frowned. "Are you going to be speeding?" he asked.

"Usually," she answered carelessly, causing his frown to deepen. "That's kind of the whole point," she added, a little amused by his reaction. "Besides, it doesn't matter because there's nothing in the air for me to really crash into. Only clouds, and they're actually refreshing to fly through."

Tōshirō's frown didn't let up. "What about falling?"

And that was pretty much the only real danger, especially being thrown from a broom that was going at high speeds. Thankfully, Rukia had never fallen off her broom, but she'd heard many stories about witches that had. A few broken bones and a concussion would be considered lucky.

"I'm a good flier," Rukia assured him.

He didn't seem convinced. Rukia reached over and hooked the elastic band around his head with her little finger, letting it snap lightly.

"Bye, mosquito," she said, and kicked off from the ground before he could react, but much slower this time. She looked down at him as he stared up, his hand massaging the spot on his head. Rukia gave him one last grin, which he actually returned, before she sped away, going slow enough that he could watch her leave for a bit longer, if he so wished.

* * *

 **April 12** **th**

* * *

Rukia had a rare day off.

She had this day off because she had asked for it. Honestly, Ukitake would give them more time off if he could, and he aspired to have enough couriers that they could work a five-day week in shifts, but with so few witches being able to fly these days, that goal was a little far-fetched. Generally, Rukia tried not to ask for days off unless they were really necessary, but Ukitake had assured her that it was time for Kiyone to get some real-life practice, so he wouldn't technically be down any couriers. Of course, they wouldn't have Rukia's speed but that was fine for one day.

Rukia had asked for this day off because it was Chad's birthday.

Chad was one of her friends that were deserving of her asking a day off for. There was a party planned for later that night and Rukia needed the day to prepare.

Though Rukia wasn't much of a cook, she was a fairly competent baker, and Chad's birthday cake was her responsibility. She spent the morning shopping for ingredients (because fresh was best) and when she got back to her apartment she set about making the cakes. While they cooled, she sorted through her wardrobe to find something to wear. She spent so much time in her uniform that she rarely visited the fancier side of her wardrobe and she only now realized that it had been a long time since she'd gone shopping.

Rukia pulled out the best thing she could find: a cherry red dress her sister had gifted her for Christmas the year before. It had a very nice flared skirt with a pentagram neckline and slightly puffy sleeves. She searched around to find the little Spanish heel red shoes that went with it and decided to add some tights, since she would be flying. As a flying witch, she had a wide selection of tights in all colours and patterns. Her eyes passed over a pair with little bats on it. Grinning to herself, she picked that one and laid it with the rest of her outfit, wondering if there were any tights out there with mosquitoes for a pattern. Probably. Monsters had all kinds of taste in clothing, after all.

It took Rukia most of the rest of the day to put together and decorate the cake. She wasn't a pastry chef by any means but a BooTube crash course was good enough. It was a simple layered cake covered in frosting and decorated with little frosting caricatures of Chad and his friends, although from a certain perspective they might have looked like little rabbits wearing wigs.

She was putting the last touches on it when the phone rang. Rukia picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Ah, Rukia, hello," Ukitake said from the other end. "Sorry to call on your day off but we've got a situation."

"It's fine," she said easily, but frowned. "What situation? Did something happen to Sentaro or Kiyone?"

"No, no, no, nothing like that," Ukitake quickly assured her. "I just got an order here." Rukia heard the rustle of paper over the line. "It's from that customer in District Ten. You know, the account under Rangiku Matsumoto?"

"Oh?" Rukia perked up. "Wait, don't tell me," she said, unable to keep the grin from her voice.

Ukitake sighed. "Please send the lovely Rukia once again," he said, clearly reading off the form. "She must really like you," he commented, voice a little curious.

Rukia's grin widened. She was pretty sure Rangiku liked her, but she was sure that _she_ wasn't the reason they kept asking for her.

Ukitake sighed again. "I hate to call you on your day off, but…"

"It's okay," Rukia said quickly. "I won't be in my uniform though."

"That's fine. You don't even need to come into the office. You can just go to the hospital and then go there."

Ukitake then spent the next few moments reading the information off the form just so Rukia knew everything she needed in case she had forgotten. She hadn't—Tōshirō was right: nothing about him seemed to change much, not even his order forms. Now that she thought about it, it was about a month since she had last been there. Did that mean she was now a part of his routine, too?

Rukia quickly got dressed and packed up the cake. She was leaving earlier than she planned, but that was best, since Tōshirō would need at least two hours to drink his blood anyway. As she was leaving her apartment, she thought to grab a hat. As much as she loved flying without them, they were needed to keep her hair somewhat decent-looking. The crazy nest she usually sported wouldn't exactly go with her outfit. Plus, she kind of wanted Tōshirō to see her looking somewhat like a normal person. From her collection she picked a broad-brimmed black one with a red satin ribbon. Tying the straps under her chin and securing her goggles, she took off.

She got to Tōshirō's mansion earlier than she had ever been before, knocking on the door with familiar ease this time. Like on her last delivery, Tōshirō himself opened the door.

"I wasn't expecting you this—" he looked up and immediately stopped talking, face freezing.

Rukia grinned at him. She had spent a few moments smoothing out herself after the flight, goggles tucked away, hat standing at a tilted angle on her head. Probably for the first time since he'd met her, Rukia looked like a proper witch.

When it became obvious that he wasn't going to say anything, only stare, she jiggled the cooler in front of his face.

"Excuse me? Am I too late? Do you need this?" she teased.

Tōshirō snapped back to life, one hand coming up automatically to take the cooler from her.

"Thanks," she smiled and slipped past him. Tōshirō didn't move away in time so her shoulder brushed his chest. She pretended not to notice that or the way he stiffened at the contact, walking into the entryway. Still staring at her, Tōshirō just closed the door and followed.

Rukia came to stand between the doors to the study and kitchen. She turned to him, the full skirt of her dress flaring out in a twirl. "Which room are we in today?" she asked, also ignoring the way his eyes flickered downward at the movement.

The question did seem to take him out of his stupor though, and he frowned. "I haven't prepared anything yet—"

"No need," Rukia waved it off. She pushed open the study door. "In here then?"

Tōshirō had no choice but to follow.

Rukia made herself at home, taking off her hat and resting it on the coffee table before settling into the same chair she had occupied before. She sat back, her legs crossed before her at the ankle, arms spread along the armrests. She looked up at him.

Tōshirō was still standing, the cooler held absently to his chest, just staring at her. Rukia reached over and patted the seat of the other chair.

He got the message, walking over and sitting down. As he set the cooler on the table and opened it, his eyes kept flickering to her.

"Where's Rangiku today?" she asked curiously.

"She went out to meet her boyfriend," he replied, sticking the metal straw in but clearly getting back to himself. "Apparently, they're going to a party."

"What a coincidence," Rukia said, watching as he took a sip and for once not grimacing with him. "So am I."

Tōshirō turned his head to look at her. "Is that why you're…" he gestured vaguely at her.

"Why I'm what?" she asked innocently.

He moved his eyes away like he was trying to look at anything that wasn't her. It might have just been the blood he was drinking but Rukia thought the tips of his ears were a little red.

"You know," he mumbled. "You're dressed up."

"How can you be sure this isn't just how I dress when I'm not working?" she asked.

This caused him to frown. "You weren't working today?"

"I wasn't," she confirmed. "But since I was specially asked for, I couldn't just say no."

Guilt flashed over his handsome face. "I'm so so—"

"Don't be," she cut him off. "I don't mind. I don't know what Rangiku's afraid of if you're left alone but even I'm not willing to risk it. If you do want to make it up to me though, you can."

It seemed to take him a while to process what she had said—she watched the relief, gratitude and then confusion cross his expression.

"How?" he asked, completely unsuspecting. That unsuspecting look disappeared though, when she smiled. She had a Cheshire cat smile that could rival Rangiku's.

"Do you own any red clothing?"

* * *

Tōshirō sat on the edge of his bed, sipping obediently at his blood pack (Rukia had forbidden him from taking excessive breaks so he would finish as soon as possible) while she rummaged through his wardrobe. She pulled items she thought looked good and laid them across the bed. Tōshirō's wardrobe was comprised of mostly dark coloured sweaters and dark coloured slacks (as in those cotton, sometimes plain, sometimes pinstriped, pants). She had to search long and hard to find a pair of jeans, and even then it had been packed away in a corner, still in the bag it had been bought in, with the tags still attached. She only prayed they actually fit.

His shoes—well, using her brother as a guide, she picked the pair of shoes Byakuya would have been _least_ likely to wear, a pair of black and white chequered loafers. In the end, she had managed to put together an outfit that at least looked like it belonged to someone in this century.

By then Tōshirō was more than halfway through his blood pack. Rukia joined him on the edge of the bed. He looked at her curiously.

"There won't be a lot of people," she said, raising her hands and counting off on her fingers. "Chad, Ichigo, Uryu, Orihime, Tatsuki, Keigo, Mizuiro, Renji, Ikkaku, Yumichika, and probably a handful of other people, since it's been a while since I've seen them. To be honest, they're a little nuts, but they won't cause trouble for you, especially since you're _my_ plus one."

Tōshirō gave her a look heavy with scepticism. Rukia pretended not to see. "Keigo can be a little annoying, and Ikkaku might challenge you to a sparring session or two—have you ever fought with a sword before? No? What about in a past life? Ah, well maybe you should just avoid Ikkaku then."

Rukia braced her hands on her knees, hunching her shoulders and swinging her legs, looking thoughtfully at the floor. "We don't have to stay long," she said. "I just want to stay long enough to eat some cake and maybe dance a song or two. I'm good with leaving after that. I have to work in the morning anyway."

She sat back suddenly, a thought crossing her mind. "What about alcohol?" she asked him worriedly.

"Alcohol is fine," he said, putting aside the now empty bag. "I live with Rangiku after all."

Rukia eyed him curiously. "You can drink alcohol?"

He shrugged. "I can. I don't get drunk, though."

"Too bad, since that's kind of the point." Rukia rolled onto her feet and gathered up the outfit she had carefully prepared. She handed it to him. "Get changed," she said.

Tōshirō looked at the clothes in his arms and then up at her. It took a few seconds of staring before she got the point.

"Right, right," she pulled back hastily. "Shall I stand outside then? Open the door when you're done."

Rukia leaned her back against the wall in the hallway outside his room. She wasn't too worried about bringing Tōshirō to Chad's birthday party. Her friends were a crazy bunch but they were very welcoming and accepting. Even if Tōshirō was an almost mythical vampire, he wouldn't stand out in their group, which had the likes of monsters like Ichigo and Chad.

Rukia hadn't really planned to drag Tōshirō along with her, but the thought _had_ crossed her mind once or twice since her last visit that if she could bring him outside for a bit then she would. She had still been somewhat surprised by how easily he agreed. He did put up some token protests but in the end, had led her up to his room to pick an outfit. Either he felt really bad about calling her out on her day off or he wasn't as opposed to social interaction as he let on.

The door next to her opened and Tōshirō stepped out. Rukia peeled herself off the wall and turned to look at him.

The clothes she had picked out included the dark jeans and shoes, a plain black undershirt and a red collared shirt. Tōshirō looked a little uncomfortable, probably because the jeans had never been broken in before. Rukia was not at all subtle about how she looked over him appreciatively—red looked very good on him.

But she walked up at him, clicking her tongue. Unhesitatingly, she reached forward and began to unbutton the shirt he had buttoned up to his neck. He started, instinctively jerking away, but Rukia held onto him securely.

"This won't do," she said, making sure to start from the button at the top and moving down like she was undressing him.

" _You_ picked it out," he protested, his head tilted all the way back as she loosened up the collar, body stiff like a board.

"Yes, but this is not how you wear it," she replied with a laugh. Rukia pushed the shirt open, making sure the collar was adjusted. She placed her hands on either side of his hips and tugged the black undershirt out from the waistband of the jeans. Tōshirō made an interesting sound, like he was being strangled. Rukia paid him no mind, pulling one of his arms forward so she could roll up his sleeve to his elbow. She did this to his other sleeve and then stepped back to survey her work. He looked even more uncomfortable now, but even better than he had before, if that was possible.

She reached up and fluffed his hair a bit, spending far more time than necessary in the soft locks, pulling a few strands to fall over one eye. Tōshirō let her do this but gave her a questioning look.

Rukia gave him a mischievous smile in return. "Adds a bit of interest," she explained.

She gave him a final once over before she nodded in satisfaction.

"Good, we can go now."

It was when he was opening the front door for them that he asked, like it hadn't occurred to him before, "How are we supposed to get there? It's in a different District, right?"

Rukia looked at him blankly. "We're going to fly?" she said, like it was obvious.

Tōshirō's expression became very flat. "I can't turn into a bat," he deadpanned.

For a few seconds, Rukia just stared at him. Then she laughed, starting with a little uncontrollable giggled that snowballed into her holding her stomach, bent over at the waist, shoulders shaking.

Her peals of laughter echoed in the silent house like a ringing bell. Tōshirō watched her helplessly and if she had been paying attention, she might have seen the soft smile that cracked his face and the pink that appeared on the apples of his cheeks.

Rukia composed herself, wiping the moisture from the corners of her eyes. She reached for her broom, saying to him confidently, "You'll ride with me."

Doubt crossed his face but Rukia just bounded down the front stairs. She positioned herself on the broom, leaving enough room for him, and then looked back expectantly.

Tōshirō hesitated, but then awkwardly maneuvered himself behind her. His legs were somewhat longer than hers, but on the broom his head was just level enough for him to comfortably rest his chin on her head, if she wasn't wearing a hat, and if he was inclined to do so. Rukia passed him her goggles.

"Put this on," she instructed. "It'll help with the wind."

"What about you?" he asked concernedly.

"I'm a flying witch," she said cheekily. "It's kind of built-in for me, I just wear it to enhance my natural ability. I'll be fine for tonight."

Tōshirō looked at the goggles in his hand for a moment but then he put them on. Rukia looked at him over her shoulder and smiled.

"I'd give you my hat," she said, amused, "But I don't think it'll make a difference. Here," she reached back and took his hands, wrapping his arms around her middle. He seemed a little surprised but didn't resist. His arms were long enough to wrap around her and hook his hands on either side of her waist. She tried not to jump at the feeling of his cold hands holding onto her but something definitely dropped in her stomach.

"Hook your ankles together when we take off and keep your legs up and as close to the broom as possible," she said, "And try not lean too much on either side. Broom flying is about balance. You'll feel how the broom tilts and your body will correct. It takes some getting used to but it's something you'll just _feel_. If you're ever in doubt, always lean forward so your body is as flat with the broom as possible. That way, if you do roll, you're less likely to fall off. Got all that?"

"I got it," he said, breath tickling her ear. Rukia shivered.

"Cold?" he asked, eyeing her thin tights and exposed arms.

Rukia threw a grin over her shoulder, her cheek brushing his nose. "That's one of the best parts," she said and then faced forward. She wrapped her hands around the handle, her right steering hand in front of her left. She had flown with both Kiyone and Sentaro before. Kiyone was smaller than Tōshirō and Sentaro was bigger, so she was pretty sure she could handle someone of Tōshirō's size and weight. The other two's hands on her waist had never tickled her, or made it a little hard to breathe, but Rukia was already doing her best to ignore that.

"I'm going to take off now," she warned. His arms tightened around her.

Rukia kicked off, making sure to rise in the air slowly. Behind her, she could feel Tōshirō adjusting himself accordingly now that they no longer had their feet under them to stabilize.

They rose over his house and his knees came up like she had instructed, slotting under her thighs, making Rukia all the more grateful she had worn tights.

She hovered for a moment so he was comfortable. "Ready?"

"Yeah," he said, voice quiet. "Are you going to go very fast?"

Rukia shook her head. "No, not for your first flight," she smiled. "Maybe some other time." She leaned herself forward a little bit and Tōshirō followed. His chest was pressed to her back and he leaned his head down to rest his chin on her shoulder, his cheek brushing against her ear.

Rukia swallowed. "Here we go," she said quietly, and took off.

Rukia flew slower than she had in a while, almost cruising. It greatly reduced the amount of wind blowing up against their faces, allowing them to still be able to talk to each other. Noticing that Tōshirō wasn't moving his head, Rukia encouraged him to look out at the stars and the full moon in the sky, or the lights of the streets and buildings below them, but he didn't budge, assuring her he could see just as well from his position.

It had taken a moment to feel the tension in his body relax behind her and even when he did, Rukia could tell that he was being careful about remaining still, which she guessed was to make sure his movement didn't throw off the equilibrium of the broom. His arms stayed securely around her waist, though.

He asked her about her flying, keeping his voice low by her ear. Rukia had given up trying to hide her shudders at this but tried to answer with steady and coherent responses.

She told him about how she had been flying since she could remember. Her sister had been a flying witch before her health made it almost impossible for her to do so anymore in any real capacity, but she had made sure to teach Rukia before then. Rukia had been made to fly. She ticked every box required, small stature, light bones, sensitive hearing, and excellent eyesight. More than just this, she just had the natural ability. Some witches even with all those things just couldn't get a broom in the air. Rukia had been making all sorts of brooms levitate since she was a baby. It was to the point that no one would dare hand her a broom to sweep.

Tōshirō seemed to listen attentively. Rukia told him about her broom and how her brother had had it specially made for her, showing where the name _Shirayuki_ was etched into the handle. It was a stunning piece of work, made out of white wood and silver trimmings with a black brush. It stood out a little, but that was hardly a problem with how fast Rukia usually rode it. It had an enhanced self-balancing ability, which was what allowed it to carry more than one person, and the carryon bag was an expanding type.

"Like Clause's?" Tōshirō asked.

"I suppose so," she replied. "It was made at his workshop, after all. All the couriers have one."

By now they had reached District Seven. Rukia pointed at the neighbourhood they were approaching. "That's where we're going. That little clinic there."

Rukia slowed her speed significantly as she approached it, dropping her elevation. "I'm going to do what's called a soft landing," she said. "We're going to gradually get closer to the ground. Wait until we're slowed down enough before you put your feet down. Your legs are longer than mine so you'll hit the ground first. Let your feet drag until we come to a stop but make sure you're balanced before you put your feet firmly on the ground, otherwise we'll topple over."

"Alright," he nodded.

They landed. Tōshirō's feet were a bit unsteady but Rukia managed to counter with a few tricks and experienced manoeuvres. As they got off the broom, the front door cautiously opened, a pretty orange head sticking out with exaggerated stealth.

"Oh, Rukia, it's you," the head said. "I thought it was Ichigo and Chad."

"Hi, Orihime," Rukia greeted her, letting her hat fall behind her back, hanging from her neck. "I'm not late, am I?"

Orihime came out from behind the door, still looking around suspiciously. "You're not late," she assured her. "We're just waiting for Ichigo to bring Chad around so we can have the surprise."

"That's good." Rukia pulled the cake out from her carryon, carefully placing the box into Tōshirō's unsuspecting arms. He had no choice but to take it.

"Orihime, this is Tōshirō," Rukia introduced. "Tōshirō, this is Orihime."

Orihime smiled brightly at him, holding out her hand. "Hi!" she enthused.

"Hello," he replied uncertainly, wondering how he could adjust the box in his arms to shake her hand. Rukia walked past him, broom under her arm, and took the other girl's hand, pulling her back toward the house.

"Is everyone here already?" she asked.

"Yup! You're the last to arrive."

Inside, the house was dark. As they walked in, several monsters sheepishly came out from their hiding places. One of them, surprisingly, was Rangiku.

"Boss!" she exclaimed, Tōshirō's hair a beacon even in the dark.

He started, staring at her unbelievingly. Rukia looked between the two of them and then laughed. "What are the odds?" she asked.

"Oh, it's just Rukia," the shapeshifter standing near Rangiku grumbled.

"Bug off, Renji," Rukia stuck out her tongue out at him. Taking the cake back from Tōshirō, she made her way to the kitchen.

Behind her, she heard Renji ask, "This your boss, Ran?"

When she returned, the monsters were mingling around in the dark, a single candle lit, waiting for Ichigo to bring Chad. Rukia found Tōshirō with Rangiku, Renji and a silver-haired man Rukia didn't recognize.

Rangiku's eyes lit up when she saw her. "Wow, Rukia, you look great!" she said. As she walked toward them Rukia did a twirl, grinning.

"Thanks, you look great yourself," she returned. The small candle flame and moonlight from outside was enough to see that the succubus looked gorgeous as always, dressed in a black velvet dress, sleeveless, with a high-neck collar and a side slit that ended high on her left thigh. Rangiku's eyes moved between Rukia and Tōshirō, clearly taking in their matching outfits. Her blue eyes twinkled.

"Oh, I see how it is," she said, clutching at her heart with mock hurt. "When _I_ invite you to a party, I get an extended lecture on how much work you have to do. But Rukia does it and suddenly here you are, fashionably late. And she even got you to dress like _that_." Rangiku gestured at him dramatically.

Rukia looked at Tōshirō curiously. The man's cheeks were flushed, but he crossed his arms and gave his assistant a small glare.

"If I had gone with you, then who would have brought Gin?" he asked.

Gin, Rukia assumed, was the tall, silver-haired man standing next to Rangiku with a hand on her back. Noticing her look, Gin offered his other hand to her.

"Gin Ichimaru," he introduced himself.

Rukia shook his hand. "Rukia Kuchiki."

Beside them, Rangiku was bemoaning how _that wasn't the point_ to Tōshirō.

Gin was a handsome man, handsome enough to match Rangiku's otherworldly beauty. The smile on his face seemed to be permanent, given the deep lines that were etched on his face and at the corners of his eyes. It caused his eyes to be narrowed into thin slits, but Rukia caught a glimpse of the silver eyes underneath. In Rukia's mind, she thought this was the man who left hickies and bite marks on Rangiku.

It was hard to tell what kind of monster he was, since there were quite a few types that didn't have any obvious external characteristics, like witch, for example, or vampire. As if reading her mind, Gin said kindly to her, "I'm a Kumiho."

Rukia, not knowing what a Kumiho was, blinked. "Oh, ah, well, I'm a witch."

"Yes, Ran told me," he nodded.

Rangiku's attention came back to them and she smiled at Rukia's confusion. She leaned closer to Gin, laying a hand on his chest.

"Gin is a nine-tailed fox," she said to Rukia. "It doesn't show if he doesn't want it to."

Before Rukia could respond to this, Tatsuki, who was peering out the window, hissed over the room to _hide_. Without thinking, Rukia grabbed Tōshirō's hand and pulled him down behind the sofa as the monsters scrambled around them. The candle was blown out promptly.

In the darkness it was hard to see Tōshirō but she pressed a finger to where she thought his mouth was, landing a little too much to the left.

"Shh," she instructed quietly. He didn't respond but she could feel the way his mouth smiled under her finger.

The room was deathly quiet. The door handle rattled for a moment before it was pushed in.

"I promise you'll like this movie, Chad. It's got that cute Sphinx actress you like, Yoruichi Shihouin—"

That was it, that was the signal! Rukia jumped up, pulling up a clueless Tōshirō who didn't know that the signal was the words _Yoruichi Shihouin,_ or indeed, who Yoruichi Shihouin even _was_ in the first place. Around them, the rest of the monsters also leapt out of their hiding places. The lights flickered on.

"Happy Birthday, Chad!"

The chorus was not at all harmonious but by the look of recognition that descended on the man's face, it didn't really matter.

Chad was a cyclops, a species born with incredible size and strength but only one eye. In Chad's case, he had been born with his left eye only, the space where his right eye would have been covered by his dark fringe. He was standing in the doorway, shocked, next to Ichigo, a tall and lanky orange-haired monster.

Ichigo was grinning at him, as was everyone else. Even Tōshirō cracked a smile.

Quietly, Chad let out a chuckle. "Thanks," he said in his deep voice.

Throwing his arm over Chad's shoulder, Ichigo led him into the house. The party really began then, Ikkaku and Rangiku making a beeline for the alcohol they hadn't been able to touch before the birthday boy arrived. Now that the room was sufficiently lit, Rukia could see that it had been decorated with the usual accoutrements—shrunken head balloons, intestine streamers, bone confetti. She nodded her head in satisfaction. Orihime and Tatsuki had done a great job.

"Your friend is a cyclops?" Tōshirō's quiet voice asked from next to her.

Rukia nodded. She was still holding his hand so she tugged him along with her to wish Chad a happy birthday.

"He's a little unusual because a couple years ago he was almost zombiefied in an accident. It changed some parts of his body, his arms for one, you'll notice. But it was stopped in time and he's completely fine now."

Rukia sidled up to where Chad was standing with Ichigo. She let go of Tōshirō's hand to pounce on his back, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Happy birthday, Chops," she grinned.

Chad spent a few moments uselessly turning around like he would be able to see her. Eventually, he gave up and just reached behind to pat her head.

Rukia dropped off him, immediately reaching for Tōshirō's hand again. He obligingly put it in the pathway of her searching hand.

"This is Tōshirō," she said. "He's a vampire."

Neither Chad nor Ichigo batted an eye at this, nodding politely and introducing themselves. Ichigo's eyes did drop to their joined hands though, something noticed only by Tōshirō. He instinctively tightened his grip, causing the orange-haired monster to raise an eyebrow at him. But Ichigo didn't comment.

"Ran's told us about you," he said instead. "The analyst right?"

"That's right," Tōshirō confirmed.

"Ichigo's a mixed monster," Rukia went on.

Ichigo nodded, "Dad's a demon, Mom was a cherub. Got equal parts of both."

Rukia leaned closer to Tōshirō and stage whispered, "He got the angel wings but he can't fly for shit."

Ichigo responded by flicking her on her head. "At least I can do it without a broom," he retorted. "And I can fly better than Uryu, at least."

Uryu, from where he was across the room, called back, "Don't lie, Kurosaki. What you do can't be considered flying by anyone's definition."

Ichigo ignored him.

"Hey, how do you guys know Rangiku, anyway?" Rukia asked.

"Renji met her through his friend, Izuru, a couple months back. You'd know that if you were around more," Ichigo said to her pointedly but without any real heat. It was something he told her in some form or the other every time they met, to remind her not to forget them when she found herself having free time.

Beside her, Rukia felt Tōshirō stiffen. She looked over at him but he was frowning at Ichigo. "You know Kira?" he asked. It was hard to tell what the tone of his voice was, but Rukia thought it was more surprised than anything.

Ichigo shrugged. "Renji does."

Tōshirō turned to look at the red-haired shapeshifter where he was taking shots with Rangiku and Ikkaku, seeing him properly for the first time. His frown deepened.

Ichigo followed his gaze, sighing exasperatedly.

"Oi!" he called out, moving over to them. "Eat some food first, damnit. Yuzu made all of it, don't just ignore it."

Rukia tugged on Tōshirō's hand, looking at him questioningly. He shook his head and mumbled that it was nothing.

Rukia didn't press him, taking him around to introduce him to the rest of her friends: Orihime the healing witch, Tatsuki the harpy, Keigo the banshee, Mizuiro the siren, Renji the shapeshifter and Ikakku and Yumichika, both demons.

Fortunately, by the time Rukia had brought him around to Ikakku for introductions, he and Renji were engaged in a fierce arm wrestle match and had no time to challenge Tōshirō to a brawl or fight or otherwise. Rukia quickly dragged him away though, just in case.

Eventually, they found themselves sitting together in a quiet corner. Chad had cut his cake and Rukia was happily eating it, pleased that it had come out well, even if Ichigo had guffawed at the little icing figurines she had made. Tōshirō was watching her eat, looking somewhat tired but not like he regretted agreeing to come.

Rukia licked away a bit of frosting on her lips and asked him, "Do you know Renji?"

He hesitated a little before answering: "Apparently, he went to school with a friend of mine. I didn't realize immediately that he was _that_ Renji."

Rukia hummed thoughtfully. "I thought you said you don't have any friends," she said, more teasingly than anything.

Tōshirō looked away from her. "I don't have as many as you," he said.

She followed his gaze out at the room. The living room furniture had been pushed up against the walls, creating a large open space that had been meant for a very intoxicated game of musical chairs. That had quickly dissolved into a mess of limbs and now Rangiku and Tatsuki were dancing in the middle, not at all choreographed or even coordinated, but they were clearly too drunk to care, tripping over themselves and giggling while everyone else cheered and urged them on. The stereo was playing a siren that had recently made a splash in the musical industry. Rukia found herself bobbing her head and shoulders along to it.

"How do you know Renji?" Tōshirō asked her.

Rukia turned back to face him, finding his darkened eyes on her.

"Renji and I grew up together," she said. "He works for my brother now."

Tōshirō seemed to contemplate this. Before he could respond the song changed and Renji called out across the room:

"Oi, Rukia! This used to be our song!"

Rukia grinned in his direction. "What do you mean _used to_?" she shouted back.

Renji raised his hands before him in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Do you still remember that jig we had?"

"Like if we made it yesterday," she said confidently.

Immediately, Renji made for the dancefloor where a grinning Tatsuki pulled a confused Rangiku out of the way.

"Alright midget," Renji challenged her, beckoning her over with a floppy hand. "Let's see ya."

Never one to back down from a challenge, Rukia stood, still smiling broadly. She pulled her hat off from her neck and handed it to Tōshirō, who was watching her with interest. "Hold this."

Renji was a little drunk but Rukia had never seen him dance sober, so all was par for the course. With a quick signal to Keigo, who controlled the music, the song was restarted.

It had been a long time since Rukia had danced like this. She loved her job and there was very little in the world she would give it up for, but it kept her very busy and she rarely had time to relax and hang out with her friends like this.

She really hadn't forgotten those dance moves she and Renji had come up with on a whim years ago when the song had first come out. At the very least, she remembered better than Renji. And she was a good dancer, without any cumbersome long limbs to worry about. The song would be considered a throwback these days, but it was upbeat and groovy and Rukia's dress made the turns and quick steps all the more entertaining to look at. She and Renji clearly weren't taking it seriously but between Rukia's good dancing and Renji's drunken enthusiasm, they had the loud support of the people watching them, with cheers and hollers and a rousing round of applause when it was over.

As the song came to an end, a slurring Ikkaku loudly asked Mizuiru if he could sing like that, quickly raising a campaign urging him to sing. Poor Mizuiru tried to explain that he wasn't a _singing_ siren—he attracted people with his cuteness, but in the end he was handed a hairbrush for a mic and pushed into the centre of the room. Luckily for him, the drunken crowd was happy to sing along with him, easily drowning out his voice, which Rukia knew from experience was _not_ a singing voice.

While this was going on, Rukia collapsed back into her seat beside Tōshirō, short of breath and face flushed, but smiling brightly.

"You dance very well," he commented quietly.

Rukia looked over at him. His expression made her freeze, but it was his eyes that truly caught her attention. They were looking at her, blue-green irises almost non-existent behind his blown pupils. But he was smiling at her in a way that made his sharp and prominent canines visible to her for the first time, face all kinds of soft.

Dancing had made her warm but she couldn't help shivering. Her heart was caught suddenly in her throat and she had to swallow heavily before she could speak.

"Thanks," she said, a little shyly. "I'm better than Renji, at least," she laughed.

She checked the time and looked back at him. "Do you want to leave now?" she asked.

He seemed to find this question surprising and frowned. "Are you sure?" he asked dubiously, glancing over at where it seemed an impromptu singing competition was being arranged.

"I'm not a singer," she said amusedly and then shrugged. "I've eaten cake and danced so I'm satisfied with leaving," she said. "I still have work in the morning," she reminded him, "And I have to take you home first, unless Rangiku…"

They both looked over at the woman. She was currently leaning her head on Gin's shoulder, seemingly relaying a story that might have been about dragons giving birth or selkies waging war with merpeople, going by the gestures she was making with her hands.

Tōshirō shook his head. "Spare me," he said dryly.

Rukia quickly said her goodbyes and pulled Tōshirō out of the house. It was too much to ask that they didn't all come outside to watch them leave, since Tōshirō seemed a little chagrined at how they stared and whistled when he got behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Rukia tried to assure him that most of them were probably too drunk to remember when they sobered.

"Rangiku will remember," Tōshirō grumbled. Looking at the way the woman still managed to smirk at them even while leaning precariously on Gin, Rukia knew that was true.

Tōshirō let his head fall against her back, resting the side of his face between her shoulder blades so he was facing away from the crowd. "Let's just go," he murmured.

It took all of Rukia's willpower to not hunch her shoulders away but she obligingly kicked off from the ground.

Rukia allowed herself to go a little faster this time. Tōshirō wasn't sleeping against her, she was sure, but he seemed sufficiently lost in his thoughts. Rukia didn't drink, since she was flying, but the brisk night air did a good job of washing the festiveness from her body, so she was well aware of the feeling of him pressed against her, his hands, his face, the tickle of his hair, even the light brush of his breath—Rukia was aware of it all.

The journey back was much shorter. They made a landing that was a little rougher than their first but it was not the thing that jolted Rukia. What jolted her was the way he slid his hands across her middle to hold onto her sides and pressed his forehead against her back to push himself off from her. He ungracefully clambered off the broom.

Rukia didn't disembark. She turned her head to face him and hoped he would assume the flush on her face was from the flight.

Tōshirō looked sleepy, looking at her with lidded eyes. She could see the faint imprint of the thread pattern of her dress on his cheek from where his face had been pressed against it. He pulled the goggles off his head and handed them to her.

"Thanks for coming with me," Rukia blurted, because she just felt compelled to say something.

Tōshirō seemed a bit startled, but then he smiled. "Thanks for inviting me," he said.

Rukia nodded, her hat slipping to the side of her head with the movement. Before she could lift a hand to fix it, Tōshirō stepped forward. He had been close to her for most of the night but for the first time, Rukia caught his scent—he smelt like the few glasses of pixie wine Rangiku had wheedled him into drinking and the many books in his study. Not being a potion witch, Rukia's sense of smell was perhaps her weakest. Yet still, it seemed to ensconce her and she found herself leaning in ever so slightly.

By comparison, after her dancing, Rukia must smell like sweat. This panicked thought flew through her mind and Rukia instinctively pulled away.

Tōshirō, whose hands had been on the brim of her hat, bringing it back up into place, quickly wrapped his arms around her, catching her before she fell over the side of the broom and pulling her into his chest.

Rukia's hands floundered, dropping the broom so it fell with a clatter between her feet, and clutched at his shirt.

Tōshirō's steady heartbeat was gently thudding against the side of her face, her forehead touching the small bit of skin exposed by the neckline of his shirt. She ceased breathing completely.

Feeling her body stiffen, Tōshirō released her, but his hold seemed to tighten fractionally before he did so. He held onto her elbows so she could step over the broom without tripping, letting go to sweep down and pick it up before she somehow fell over it anyway.

She took it from him, embarrassed, quickly getting back on it. "I should go," she said, looking at a spot on his face that wasn't his eyes.

He nodded. "Fly safe," he wished her and stepped back so she could take off.

Rukia didn't have the cognitive thought to put on a show this time. She gave him a wave and immediately kicked off, speeding off into the night.

Though she had always preferred to fly solo, beholden to no one in her speed and flight style, the journey home felt oddly empty without that hold around her waist and weight against her back. This wasn't because she had gotten used to them already, but more because she wondered if she would ever get to feel them again.

* * *

 **May 7** **th**

* * *

It wasn't quite a full month later that Rukia got to see Tōshirō again. The order came in early enough that Rukia thought to speed through the rest of her deliveries for the day. Between that and the fact that Kiyone was now making deliveries herself, Rukia finished in record time. Ukitake noticed.

"Do you like this delivery that much?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rukia was busy looking down at the order form—today's special note read _We'll only take Rukia, unless today is her day off, in which case it doesn't matter, please leave package by the door_ —but looked up and grinned at him.

She nodded. "I made a friend," she enthused, tucking the form away.

Ukitake raised an eyebrow but Rukia didn't notice. She made for her broom but then seemed to remember something. Ukitake watched with a mixture of helplessness and amusement as she made a beeline for the breakroom cupboard, pulling out a little-used Monopoly box—there were games there in case there was ever any downtime that was actually long enough to allow them to play. Needless to say, this rarely happened.

Rukia had already hopped back on her broom before she froze and thought to look at Ukitake, smiling sheepishly.

"I'll bring it back," she promised.

Magnanimously, Ukitake just waved her away.

There were no specific flying speed laws, but if there had been, Rukia would have broken every single one on her way to Tōshirō's house.

She had thought about almost nothing else but seeing him again, fluctuating between _desperately_ wanting to see him and worrying about how she would face him again if she did see him. In the end, her desire had won out, and Rukia didn't give herself a chance to be self-conscious, rolling up to his front door like she lived there herself.

She still had to knock, though, and she waited almost on her toes for the door to open. With all of that anticipation, she was somewhat disappointed when it was Rangiku who appeared.

The woman seemed a little surprised to see her.

"You're early!" she exclaimed.

Rukia rolled back onto her feet, abashed.

"Sorry?" she said. "I just happened to finish up early, so I came straightaway."

Rangiku's smile gave the impression the succubus could see right through her. She chuckled but stepped aside to let Rukia in.

"Unfortunately, Tōshirō is taking his evening nap. But since you're here, you're welcome to stay."

"Oh," Rukia followed after her. "Do you have plans?" she asked, making an effort to make the question sound conversational and not hopeful. By the crafty side glance the other woman gave her, she knew she failed.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Rangiku answered. "I wasn't going to leave so soon, but since you're here and I can leave Tōshirō to you, I think I just will. What do you think?"

"I mean, if you want," Rukia hedged but she was already relieved that Rangiku was leaving and she had an excuse to stay.

"Come this way," Rangiku instructed her. She took Rukia through the house and into the back yard. There was a small garden there, bordered by a fence covered in tomato vines. It reminded Rukia of the tomato sauce Tōshirō had made for her and she wondered if he had used tomatoes from his garden back then. Tōshirō's house was on a hill and the back yard backed up to the edge, the land sloping down behind it. A very ancient-looking fence stood around it and Rukia avoided it carefully. Rangiku took her to the very back of the yard where there was a gazebo. Hanging under the gazebo roof and suspended from the marble columns was a cloth hammock. Within this hammock, swinging very gently in the breeze, was Tōshirō. He appeared to be turned away from them and all Rukia could see was the sharp protrusion of his shoulder and his spiky white hair which, in the evening light, looked pink.

"He'll wake up when he needs to," Rangiku told her quietly. "His biological clock is more accurate than a real one."

Rukia nodded but hesitated. Rangiku gave her a small nudge. "Go on," she said.

Rukia walked into the gazebo, deliberating for a moment before she ducked under the hammock. There were small stone benches along the inside walls of the gazebo and Rukia sat down on one so her back was facing the hill slope and she could see Tōshirō's face in the hammock. She put the cooler and her broom aside and made herself comfortable.

From the other side, Rangiku gave her a thumbs up with raised eyebrows. Rukia returned the thumbs up with a smile. The woman gave her one last wave and then left.

Tōshirō was sleeping on his side, only one half of his face visible. One arm was tucked under his body, the other hanging over the edge of the hammock. His features were the most relaxed Rukia had ever seen them and she had the pleasure of watching how the light of the setting sun played over his face, pink, then orange, then red, then purple.

The exhaustion of her frantic deliveries began to catch up to her though. Flying on a broom didn't require the same caloric effort as flying with wings (the broom was a _vehicle_ , after all) but it was still strenuous, and was more taxing mentally than perhaps wing-flying was.

Rukia leaned herself against a support column and before long, her eyes closed. She wasn't going to sleep, she just wanted to rest her eyes for a bit. Besides, how could she let go of this opportunity to stare unashamedly at Tōshirō's face?

When she came to, she found herself looking up at the gazebo ceiling, darkness all around except for the light from the round moon overhead. It took only a few moments of sleepiness for her to realize that her head was resting against something that was not a stone bench and she shot up, twisting her head around.

Tōshirō was sitting on the bench with her, body angled to face her, elbow propped on the top of the gazebo's short wall, chin resting in his palm. The blood bag was cradled in his other hand, already empty. He had been gazing out at the moon but turned his head in her direction when she sat up.

Rukia's heart was beating a mile a minute. In the moonlight and darkness, Tōshirō looked like he wasn't a creature of this world, which was a hard feat to accomplish, given just how many creatures _actually_ belonged to this world of theirs. But there was something about his snow-white hair, blue-green eyes, and lightly tanned skin that became all the more striking in that moment, to say nothing of the already handsome features of his face.

"Sorry," he said, his voice very soft in the still air. "Did I wake you?"

It took a couple more moments than could be considered normal for Rukia's brain to start functioning again. When it did, she quickly shook her head. "No, I—" she looked around, a little scatter-brained. "—I fell asleep?"

He nodded. "You looked uncomfortable, so I…" he gestured vaguely to his lap.

Rukia's whole face flushed, a thing she hoped she could hide by retreating a little into the darkness.

"Ah, jeeze," she ran a hand down her face and mumbled under her breath, "This was not how I planned for this evening to go."

"You seemed very tired," Tōshirō said, voice curious. "I didn't think I should wake you. How _did_ you plan for this evening to go?"

Rukia froze, one eye widening between her splayed fingers. But then she laughed, letting all the tension roll off her shoulders. She turned away from him to rummage through her carryon bag. With some flare, she turned back around and plopped the Monopoly game box on the bench between them.

Tōshirō's eyes widened fractionally, and then he chuckled. "I see," he mused, a finger reaching out to trace the distinctive letters. Rukia was captivated watching his hand, large, and with those slightly raised veins across the otherwise smooth surface. He lifted his eyes to catch hers, expression very gentle.

"Thank you."

It was like Rukia swallowed her tongue. She could only nod.

"Unfortunately, it's pretty late," he sighed, sounding truly regretful.

Rukia couldn't argue with that. Reluctantly, she got to her feet. Tōshirō moved to push the box back to her but she stopped him, leaning down to put a hand on his arm.

"Keep it for now," she said.

He seemed uncertain and she really hoped he wouldn't refuse her excuse to definitely see him again. After a beat, he nodded and she stepped back.

Like he always did, Tōshirō walked her back out to the front of the house. There was definitely something hanging in the air between them by the way their hands seemed to always brush against each other as they walked, or how Tōshirō shortened his steps to match hers exactly, or the way Rukia kept glancing at him from the corner of her eyes.

It was awkward and exhilarating and terribly sweet all at the same time.

When she got on her broom and bid him goodnight he opened his mouth like he wanted to say something. Rukia waited but in the end, all he said was, "Fly safe."

"I always fly safe," she grinned at him.

"No, you don't," he deadpanned, completely confident.

"Safe- _ish_ ," she corrected herself with a little careless shrug. Tōshirō could only sigh exasperatedly.

Rukia stuck her hand out to him, palm out. "Give me something for good luck then," she said.

He was put on the spot but seemed to be considering it. As the moment stretched on, she jiggled her hand impatiently.

Humouring her, he took it in his own. But instead of putting something in it, he brought it up to his lips. Rukia watched him do this but was still absolutely stunned when his mouth pressed into the back of her hand. His lips were cold but it felt like their impression was being seared into her skin.

When he let go if felt like something was being pulled out of her very _being_ , stuck to him and destined to be left behind.

Rukia was pretty sure she made it home that night through sheer practice and muscle memory alone because she couldn't recall a thing that happened after Tōshirō's good luck charm. Perhaps that in itself was an indicator of how well it worked.

* * *

 **June 5** **th**

* * *

Rukia was no match for Tōshirō when it came to Monopoly. He beat her quite effortlessly, and repeatedly. Before then, Rukia hadn't even known that you _could_ finish a game of Monopoly—she had never finished one in her life.

Despite this, she enjoyed their games. Tōshirō's intelligence really shone through and it made her warm inside to watch him actually have fun. Rukia became even more invested when, apparently having grown tired of defeating her, Tōshirō had set about teaching her how to really play. For her part, Rukia actually listened, but in truth, she enjoyed being taught more than she enjoyed learning or actually improving her playing.

And even if she did win a game or two here and there, it was safe to say Tōshirō was going easy on her.

* * *

 **July 5** **th**

* * *

Tōshirō, or more likely Rangiku, seemed to have figured out that the earlier they placed their order, the more time Rukia could hang around for. On this day, they had enough time for Tōshirō to finish his blood bag _and_ for Rukia to take him for a flight over District Ten.

As it turned out, Rukia knew more about District Ten than he did, and he had lived there his whole life. She pointed out all the stores and buildings she knew from her deliveries. She pointed at one building in particular.

"Ichigo's dad used to live there," she said. "His family still does but Ichigo's dad moved when he got married."

She took him to see the best views of the district from a bird's eye view, ending back at his house, which had become her favourite view in all the districts.

* * *

 **August 3** **rd**

* * *

At this point, it was just a given that Rukia would make Tōshirō's delivery every month. She counted the days in between and she had become very good at predicting when the order would come in.

In August, it came in on a day there was a raging thunderstorm. Kiyone had been grounded for the day, entirely not prepared to fly in the heavy rain. Rukia and Sentaro had made several trips that morning while their area still only had rainfall. Toward the evening it got worse, with rolling thunder and lightning. But with the rain, there had been a reduction in orders and many had been cancelled, so they had still managed to complete all the ones that remained before it got too bad. Except for one.

Tōshirō's order came in a little later than usual and by then the storm had gotten so bad that Ukitake had grounded even Rukia. She was still prepared to fly over to the hospital district, even against Ukitake's wishes, but then the news came through the office radio that District Four had been properly flooded and the hospital had had to evacuate.

Rukia sank back into her chair while Ukitake cancelled Tōshirō's order. She only hoped that he and Rangiku would get it early enough to make other arrangements. Up until then Rukia had never been told what happened to Tōshirō if he didn't drink his blood but recalling his condition during their first meeting, she knew it couldn't be good.

The radio announcer informed them that they were having an unexpected monsoon storm. Ukitake and his couriers remained trapped in their office, unable to leave via foot or broom. The more Rukia sat and waited for the storm to subside, the more she felt uneasy.

It was like she was taking her flying exam again, knowing there was nothing more she could do but unable to stop the feeling of impending doom from crawling into her heart. Her stomach wouldn't sit still, making her sick to her core. Ukitake, Kiyone and Sentaro had resigned themselves to possibly spending the night in the office, pulling out long-forgotten blankets and pillows from somewhere. They had cosied up in a corner, playing those board games they never usually got to play. Rukia didn't have the presence of mind to join them.

She kept her eye on the storm outside and waited.

It was past midnight when she couldn't take it any longer. She crawled over to where Ukitake had fallen asleep and gently shook him awake.

"What is it?" he asked sleepily.

"I'm going," she said, quietly but firmly.

Ukitake considered her silently. Without a word, he pushed his blanket away and got to his feet. He made his way to the window and looked out. The radio was giving a quiet update on the storm but outside, it looked like not much had changed.

Ukitake turned back to Rukia. She was already holding her broom, ready to leave no matter what he said.

Ukitake heaved a great sigh, one that seemed to make his whole body sink in on itself. Rukia felt a little guilty for putting him in this situation, but everything about her was practically already at Tōshirō's house, it was only her body that was standing in the office right now.

"Don't fly too close to the ground," Ukitake told her. "But don't fly too high either. If you have to take shelter don't do it in an open area or under any tall structures, try to find someplace indoors. If your visibility becomes less than forty percent, you must _absolutely_ land. Do not try to fly by memory alone. When you get there, don't leave until the storm has actually subsided. And _please_ don't speed. Do you understand?"

Rukia didn't reply. Instead she stepped forward and threw her arms around the man. He chuckled, patting her on the back. "When this is over, you'll tell me all about who lives in that house, right?"

"Right," she agreed, a little choked.

She didn't linger after that, quietly stepping over Kiyone and Sentaro's sleeping bodies. The storm outside was just as bad as it seemed. Rukia followed all of Ukitake's advice except for the last one. She couldn't help it, it was as if flying faster would make her heartbeat slow down. Rukia wasn't really aware of the time that had passed but when Tōshirō's house came into view, drenched in rain but glowing in the moonlight, it felt like she could breathe for the first time in hours.

Rukia flew right up to his door, manners be damned. She grabbed both knockers and began to frantically rap them against the doors. She could hear how the sound reverberated in the house even in the din of the rain. Yet no one came to the door. Rukia kept knocking, unable to help herself, eventually pounding on the doors with her fists. It felt like there was a balloon steadily being blown bigger in her chest and if she didn't see Tōshirō soon, it would pop and make a mess of her insides.

She tried tugging on the doors but they were locked and far too heavy and large to break into. Frustrated, Rukia stumbled back, but then her eyes caught sight of the study window. Months ago it had been through that window that Tōshirō and Rangiku had watched her land for the first time.

Rukia made her way over to it. Inside the room was pitch black. She knocked incessantly on the glass but nothing stirred within. Stepping away, she looked around for something she could use. The pouring rain made it hard to see but eventually, she found a rock. With a steady hand, she smashed it against the glass and it obligingly cracked a tennis ball-sized hole in it, long cracks extending away from it. She dropped the rock, picking up her broom instead. She flipped it over, holding it by the guard of the brush. Without hesitation, she whacked it against the glass.

The glass gave way, bit by bit with each hit, a mixture of shards and chips of her broom handle falling to the side. During all of this, nothing changed inside.

She dropped the broom and hoisted herself over the window ledge and into the room.

The storm was still going outside, but in the room, it was muffled. With the rain at her back, Rukia walked further inside.

"Tōshirō?" she called out to the room. There was no response. She fumbled around in the darkness for where she knew the desk lamp was, flicking it on. The warm yellow light lit up the room.

Tōshirō was lying on the ground, curled up in a tight ball before the fireplace. Rukia only knew it was him by the white of his hair. The journey to his house was nothing in comparison by panic to the journey from where she stood to his body.

Her knees hit the carpeted floor with a thud, hands reaching for him. His body was so rigid and stiff that Rukia couldn't tell if he was breathing. His face was buried in his arms and Rukia had to dig her fingers into his sleeves to pull them away.

Tōshirō's face was pale like all the blood had been drained from it. His eyes were screwed shut, jaw locked tight. Rukia was cradling his face in her hands but she didn't know what to do.

Panic swelled in her and she looked around the room for something, anything, that could help. There was nothing helpful in the room, not even a phone. Looking back at him she lightly slapped his face a few times. It didn't appear to do anything though, so she prepared to get to her feet, thinking she could maybe get him on her broom and take him to the Kurosaki clinic, which was closer and hadn't been flooded.

As she pulled her hands away from him to stand, something grabbed her arm. Startled, Rukia looked down.

Tōshirō's eyes were fluttering open. Rukia watched as his blue-green irises became visible, pupils expanded a touch too much to be considered normal.

"Tōshirō?" she whispered anxiously.

His gaze was clouded, and she wasn't sure if he was aware she was there. She brought her face closer, thumb brushing soothingly against his cheek. His eyes seemed to be slowly focusing. But just when he seemed to blink in recognition, something strange happened.

His pupils shrank suddenly, so fast that she would have missed it if she wasn't so close. The colours of his eyes became stark in his face, dark pupils no more than a dot in the middle.

Rukia's heart seized completely, the change immediately triggering her fight or flight response. Alarm bells began to ring all over her body but she couldn't react in time. Before she knew it, she was suddenly lying on her back. Tōshirō was hovering over her, his face shrouded in all kinds of sharp shadows. But his expression was like nothing Rukia had ever seen before, eyebrows knotted together, eyes dark, lips pulled up in a snarl, revealing sharp and pointy teeth Rukia was not quite familiar with. She couldn't help but try to stretch her body away from him, watching as his eyes immediately flickered to her exposed neck.

Rukia felt a chill wash over her.

His head dipped down and she reacted completely by instinct. Years of brawling with Renji when she was young came back to her in a single moment. Her arm slotted against Tōshirō's neck, sharp elbow pushing against his throat and keeping his face away long enough for her to pull her knee up between their bodies. With all of her strength, Rukia kicked him away.

Perhaps he was truly not expecting it because his body went almost willingly, rolling back and falling against one of the bookcases. He hit it with enough force to topple several books off.

Rukia scrambled to her knees, crawling over to him.

"Don't!"

She froze, one arm extended to him. Tōshirō had brought his arms up to protect his head from the books, so he was slumped against the bookcase, his head hung, face shielded.

"Tōshirō?" Rukia began hesitantly. "Are you…okay?"

He mumbled something but his voice was too strained and muffled for her to hear.

"Tōsh—"

"Leave!"

The suddenness and harshness of his voice startled her and she stumbled back.

"Get out," he gritted out, voice so hard and cold Rukia felt it penetrate her chest like it was the icy blade of a sharp knife.

"I—"

"I don't care!" he all but screamed at her, dropping his arms away from his head. On his face was the coldest hatred Rukia had ever seen. "Just get out!"

Rukia left the room in a blur. The house was silent but she couldn't hear her fumbling steps or choked breath as she reached for the front doors. Her hands were shaking as she unlocked them and for the first time she noticed that they were bleeding, from when she had pounded on the door or climbed through the broken window, she didn't know.

She grabbed her broom and flung herself into the air, not at all noticing how the rain had eased around her. As she flew away she became aware of how clouded her eyes were. She quickly wiped at them and caught sight of a familiar blond head running along the pathway below her.

A horrific kind of giggle that might have been a gasp or a sob bubbled up her throat. It went unheard though, easily lost in the wind and rain as she sped away.

* * *

**August, September, October**

* * *

Just like that, things went back to normal.

Rukia made deliveries like she normally did, taught Kiyone a few tips and tricks in her downtime, swung by Ichigo's on her free evening's to hang out with her friends, just like she had done before.

Rukia had lived this kind of existence for a long time, and she had always been happy with it—her job, her family and friends, her place in the world. She had always been content with everything before.

Now, it felt like a stranger's life to her, like she was moving through her days as a substitute for someone else. She couldn't feel comfortable, she couldn't feel safe. It felt like her heart or her soul or her brain or whatever was responsible for feeling right with the world had been left somewhere else. And for the life of her, Rukia couldn't bring herself to go look for it.

* * *

 **October 31** **st**

* * *

"Rukia, do you want a coat?"

Rukia looked down at herself. She, like the other two couriers, had dressed in costumes for Halloween. Sentaro was something called a ghostbuster, which apparently was a person who went about trying to hunt and prove the existence of ghosts. Rukia didn't understand this because ghosts clearly existed and they were quite easy to find, not hiding at all. He had tried to explain that it was from an alternate universe for a TV show he watched but Rukia only half listened.

Kiyone was something called a Shinigami, which was from a comic strip or something similar, and she was wearing very baggy black pants and a black long-sleeved top with a sword at her hip.

Both their costumes were much warmer than what Rukia was wearing.

Rukia had decided to be an E-girl for Halloween, a character she had found in an obscure movie called _The Internet_. It was a science-fiction thing and not many people knew about it but Rukia loved the aesthetic.

She was wearing her normal tights with a pleated green and black plaid skirt. She had switched out her long-sleeved undershirt for a long-sleeved netted shirt and had thrown on a black T-shirt that had cute green cat eyes painted on over it. She had tied her hair up into something called space buns and to complete the look, she had dug up a black velvet ribbon to tie around her neck, the bow tails hanging over her shoulder.

She was quite proud of this costume, and couldn't bear to have it spoiled by a lumpy jacket.

She shook her head at Ukitake. "No thanks, I like the cold."

He looked at her helplessly but knew better than to try to change her mind. Instead, he sighed and slid a sheet of paper over the table to her. "This came in just now."

Rukia was carefully dusting the frost that had built up on her broom handle—the white wood had been chipped from breaking the window and the wood was splitting slightly at the top, but Rukia had tied a white ribbon around the handle to prevent it from splitting further and to hide the damage. She looked over at the form and stilled.

"It asks for you again," Ukitake said. "Here, read it."

Rukia took it. Since the night of the thunderstorm, neither Tōshirō nor Rangiku had made a request through their courier service. Rukia had tried not to be bothered by this—after all, they had just been providing a service. Tōshirō was just a costumer, he wasn't obligated to continue using them for his deliveries.

This order wasn't asking her to collect the cooler from the hospital and then bring it over to the house. Instead, it asked that she come and collect something that she left behind. The instructions didn't specify what that was but the special instructions simply read: _Please have your courier come collect her belongings from the house_.

Rukia was hurt by that. In the previous orders, it had been clear that Rangiku had been the person making the orders and subsequently writing the notes. This one sounded like Tōshirō had written it, or dictated it to Rangiku, and sounded like he wanted her to clear her presence from his house.

Rukia stuffed the order into her bag and Ukitake watched her warily.

"I can have Sentaro go," he offered.

She decidedly shook her head. "I'll go," she said firmly.

She never did have that conversation with Ukitake. She had come into the office the next day with heavy bags under her eyes and a bad cold. Ukitake had sent her straight back home. In the months that followed when they suddenly stopped receiving orders from Tōshirō's house, Ukitake had probably figured out something had happened. He had yet to broach the topic with Rukia, but she knew it was coming. Probably tomorrow after she made this last trip.

In the past few months, Rukia had not been to District Ten. She had handed those orders over to Kiyone and Sentaro, telling herself that she would give herself some time to calm down and then she would be fine, and she could go back to how she was before she had met Tōshirō.

But now, flying over the familiar scenery as she headed to his house, she realized how naïve her thinking had been. She would probably never go back to being that person.

She came to her destination far too soon, the erratic pounding of her heart telling her she wasn't prepared. Still, Rukia schooled her expression into one of calm indifference and knocked on the door, her broom tucked under her arm, not because Rukia thought she would be asked to stay, but rather because she had the silly notion that she could hop on it at any time and just run away.

The door opened. Rukia inhaled an unsteady breath and braced herself.

Surprisingly, she was greeted by a familiar smiling face, tilted eyes opening ever so slightly to look at her.

"Rukia the witch," Gin greeted her, his voice warm. "Welcome."

"Hi," she said, like all the breath had been punched out of her.

Gin's smile seemed to stretch wider. "I've been told ta let ya in quietly," he said to her, moving aside.

Confused, Rukia followed him inside. The house hadn't changed since she'd last left, except for the fact that the familiar hallways and doors left a sour feeling in her heart.

Gin led her to the study door, which was partially open. It was hard to describe the feeling that bubbled up in Rukia standing there, but it made her want to turn heel and run. From within, Tōshirō and Rangiku were arguing.

"Then just go already," Tōshirō grumbled, frustration thick in his voice. It sent a jolt through Rukia, who hadn't heard it in almost three months, and the last time she had—well, it was still nice to hear again.

"You're not listening to me," Rangiku snapped, and Rukia started, having never heard the woman sound like that before. Her wide eyes flickered to Gin, but his face hadn't changed at all.

"I've heard every word you've said since you started to nag me," Tōshirō defended.

"But you haven't _listened_. If you actually listened to me, she would already be—"

" _Do not_."

There was a heavy silence. From where they hovered outside the room, Gin gestured for her to go in. Rukia hesitated but then steeled herself and pushed the door open.

Rangiku was sitting in one of the armchairs, turned to face Tōshirō's desk. Her arms and legs were crossed, back ramrod straight, beautiful features scowling. Tōshirō was standing behind his desk, leaning over it, palm flat against its surface. There was a half-full bag of blood sitting between his hands, a sight that stabbed Rukia the wrong way. Behind him, the window she had broken was already replaced.

Rukia's heart sank to a place somewhere deep inside her.

Both of them looked up as she entered, Rangiku's sullen face melting into a warm and somewhat triumphant smile. Rukia didn't notice, though, because her eyes refused to look anywhere but at Tōshirō, whose face had gone slack with surprise at her entrance. He looked like someone had poured a bucket of icy water over his head.

Rangiku got to her feet. She gave Tōshirō a pointed look. " _Now_ I can leave," she said. He didn't seem to notice.

Rangiku didn't say anything to Rukia as she passed by but she gave her a comforting smile and squeezed her shoulder encouragingly. From behind her, Rukia was vaguely aware of her and Gin leaving. The front doors closed with finality and then it was just Rukia, Tōshirō and deafening silence.

They stood staring at each other. Tōshirō looked like he hadn't slept in the three months Rukia hadn't seen him.

She watched as his shoulders seemed to tense up.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. His voice wasn't harsh or even cold, but it was distant, like he was talking to a stranger.

"I was asked to come and collect something," she said, keeping her voice even.

"That was Rangiku," he said immediately. "You can take it up with her."

"And I thought we could talk."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Well, I have something to say to you."

Tōshirō's eyes widened slightly in surprise, and something that seemed suspiciously like fear. The silence stretched between them, which Rukia took as affirmation to go on. She took a deep breath.

"I like you," she said plainly, and it was this admission that finally allowed her thundering heart to calm down. From the look on Tōshirō's face, it was clear he hadn't expected her to say _that_. She fixed her eyes on his. "The only thing stopping me from saying that I love you is how much more your potential rejection will hurt if I use that word. That and the fact that it's kind of ridiculous to say you love someone you've only met seven times."

Rukia had thought about this a lot. Even if they had spent the entire day together those seven times, she still would have known Toshiro for less than a week.

"It _is_ ridiculous. Right?" The hopefulness in her voice clearly relayed that she didn't want him to agree with her.

"Rukia..."

"That's the first time I've heard you say my name. That's kind of ridiculous too."

Rukia was probably saying the word ridiculous too much but that's how she felt standing there in the study trying to keep her voice steady: ridiculous.

Tōshirō leaned off the table and Rukia realized for the first time that he was wearing the red shirt she had picked out for him all those months ago. His face flickered through several expressions too quickly for her to see, and he ran a hand through his hair.

Rukia took a step forward and his eyes snapped to her.

"Rangiku said I left something here," she said quietly. "Do you know what it is?"

He frowned, clearly not understanding why the conversation was going in this direction now, and she took another step, and another, until she was standing on the opposite side of his desk.

"I left this."

Rukia reached forward and grabbed his shirt, the material softer and a little more worn than she remembered it being. Then, she pulled.

The kiss didn't land precisely on his mouth, but she quickly corrected that. It was very chaste. She could feel nothing but the soft dampness of his mouth and the rush of air as he inhaled sharply. There was the sharp tang of blood in there too but Rukia couldn't be bothered by that right then. His lips were a little chapped, as she was sure hers were also, the consequence of flying through the cold, brisk autumn air. But they were warm and soft and gave no resistance.

She pulled back and looked up at him. Tōshirō's expression could only be described as stunned, his mouth falling open slightly, eyes wide, pupils blown. He looked like he didn't quite believe what had just happened.

So Rukia kissed him again.

She didn't even have to pull this time, his body just fell towards hers. They kissed slowly, carefully. Rukia didn't want to spook him and Tōshirō didn't seem like he had really figured out what was going on yet. But then his hand came up to her cheek, brushing over her ear to thread into the loose hair that had escaped her buns at the back of her head. He was pulling her closer and Rukia's other hand found purchase on the surface of his desk, knocking against something cold.

She broke the kiss and looked down. The blood bag was sitting there innocently between their hands.

"Shit," Tōshirō said quietly over her head.

Rukia pulled back, letting go of him and rolling back onto her feet. Tōshirō was looking at her hopefully but with caution.

"I came to talk," she said. "I think we should do that first."

Tōshirō gave a sigh that was more like the release of something burdensome, and nodded. "Let's talk."

They ended up sitting on the floor against the bookcase that Tōshirō had fallen against that rainy night. They sat side by side, the fire going in the fireplace because Rukia had started to shiver. Tōshirō sat cross-legged on the carpet, sipping at the blood bag. Rukia sat with her legs stretched out before her, crossed at the ankles. Her broom lay between them and Rukia found herself tracing the wood with her fingers.

"The first day I met you, Rangiku said you were part vampire," she said, breaking the silence.

Tōshirō flinched, but then sighed. He cradled the blood bag in his hands. "Yes," he confirmed. "I'm a hybrid. Part vampire, part—"

"Werewolf," she finished for him, nodding to herself at his shocked expression. "I thought so."

"You knew?" he asked, incredulous.

Rukia shrugged. "It wasn't that hard to figure out," she said. "At first, I thought you were like a regular vampire and you needed me only when Rangiku was busy. But then I realized you only needed a courier once a month, almost like clockwork. I started to keep track of the days you used me and realized that there was one thing in common."

Beside her, Tōshirō sighed.

She turned to look at him. "Every night I was here, there was a full moon," she said. "I went back and double, and then triple checked. It couldn't be a coincidence."

Tōshirō seemed to be considering his next words carefully. "You're right," he said at length. "But it's not—it's a little complicated."

Rukia looked at him curiously and he went on: "I'm not a hybrid like your friend with the orange hair. Both my parents were vampires without blood dependence. If I had been born normally, I would have been the same."

A frown dipped between Rukia's eyes.

"When my mother was pregnant with me, in her third trimester, she was bitten," he said quietly. "It was a rogue werewolf. They caught him soon after, but it was too late. She died. I survived, premature, but alive."

Rukia remained quiet. Out of all of the theories she had come up with, this wasn't one of them.

"At first, it didn't appear like anything was wrong with me," Tōshirō continued. "Not until I hit my teens, at least. The werewolf venom did something strange to my body. It seemed to compromise with my vampire half, so instead of having separate halves, drinking blood and changing with the full moon, I got a blend of both. I _do_ crave blood but _only_ at the full moon, no other time."

Rukia leaned back, facing forward. Tōshirō seemed to be carefully gauging her reactions. She nodded thoughtfully. "I figured it was something like that," she said.

He blinked at her. "What?"

"Well," she said slowly, recalling all the pieces of information she had sorted through in her mind. "You only calling for me once a month became a little odd after the first few times if you were a vampire that needed a blood meal every day. I guess you could argue that Rangiku made the other trips for you but what would be the odds that I always got the one on the full moon? Besides, I asked around the hospital after the first trip. Rangiku stands out wherever she goes, but no one handling the blood bags had ever seen her before."

Tōshirō opened his mouth to say something.

"And—" Rukia cut him off, raising a finger like she was making a point. "You know how to cook. And you grow your own food. Clearly, you eat things other than blood."

Tōshirō looked impressed. Rukia was rather pleased at herself for figuring it all out.

"How long have you known all of that?" he asked.

"Was pretty certain after you said you could drink alcohol," she shrugged. "But the garden really sold it."

For the first time that evening, Tōshirō smiled, even though it was faint and tired. "I can live without drinking blood," he said, "even on a full moon. It makes me very sick and I might feel like I'm dying but it won't kill me. That's not the reason I started taking these bags. The problem is the bloodlust."

"Is that what happened that night?" Rukia asked, straightforwardly and calmly.

He blanched but nodded. "When I was young, my grandmother provided my blood meals," he told her. "This house actually used to be hers. After she died, I had a friend who offered to do it instead. Between her and Rangiku, it was never a real issue in my life."

Rukia considered him. "Something happened with your friend," she guessed astutely.

"Momo was late once," he said slowly. "It wasn't her fault. I was home alone, Rangiku was away on business and Momo was supposed to be back in time but she got caught up with something. When she did eventually get here, I was—well, you know how I was." Tōshirō winced and avoided her eyes.

Rukia considered him for a moment and then reached over and rested her hand in the crook of his elbow.

"Did you hurt her?" she asked.

"No," he said quickly with a shake of his head. "But I think I really scared her. Enough for her to move thousands of miles away."

Rukia tilted her head to look at him, expression dubious. "If I asked Rangiku, what would she say?" she asked.

Tōshirō started and gave her a sheepish look. "She'd say Momo's move had nothing to do with me," he admitted. "She's been telling me that for a while now. I'm not sure I can believe her."

Holding onto his elbow, Rukia pulled herself closer so she was leaning against his arm. "You didn't scare me," she said. "You can believe that."

"Rukia…I'm really sorry," he said quietly.

"If you want to apologize, you can apologize for ignoring me for the past three months," she quipped. "Waiting for you to call for me only for it to not happen hurt worse than anything you did that night."

Tōshirō turned and kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to face you. I felt for sure you wouldn't want to see me again."

"I wanted to see you more than anything," she admitted quietly.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"Alright, I forgive you," she propped her chin on his shoulder, her nose pressing into his cheek. "You owe me a new broom, though."

Tōshirō frowned, eyeing the broom that was tucked between them. Rukia showed him the damage to the handle and explained what had happened that night. Tōshirō's face paled with guilt. She let him wallow for a moment and then smiled. "Although, I did break your window, so I guess we're even."

He shook his head. "It's not the same," he said, wrapping his fingers around the broken handle cautiously. "I'll replace it," he promised.

Rukia snorted quietly. "Don't bother," she said, pulling his arm behind her so she could lean comfortably against his chest. "My brother will have it fixed. You can come along with me to explain why it's damaged. That would be punishment enough."

Tōshirō seemed unwilling to let it go so Rukia pulled his arm to wrap around her, drawing comforting circles on the back of his hand with her finger.

"Was Momo a witch?" she asked.

"Yes? A fire witch," he replied, sounding confused. Then his entire body stiffened. "Rukia, no—"

"You really hate those," she said, pointing at the blood bag that was now empty. "And Rangiku is out of the question. I'd be here every full moon if you keep ordering them anyway, so…"

He shifted underneath her. "You don't have to," he said.

"My brother said witches are good blood donors," she told him. "Not as good as succubi, but I'll only be doing it once a month anyway. And I'm very healthy." She tilted her head back against his chest so she could look up at his face. "And I assume you're going to be leaving bites and bruises on my body anyway, so why not, right?"

Tōshirō choked on his own spit and Rukia grinned wickedly. She reached up, threaded her fingers into the hair at the back of his head, and tugged his head down. She stretched up and kissed the tip of his nose. Releasing him, she said morosely. "We're going to lose your business."

"Actually," he said, a little shakily, still not recovered from her last action. "Rangiku has a long list of how I can use your service in my work. She made it hoping I would use it them as excuses to see you more often."

Rukia sighed dramatically. "We don't deserve that woman."

He grinned, revealing those sharp canines. Curiously, Rukia pressed a fingertip against one but it quickly disappeared when his smile slipped away. Withdrawing her finger, she asked, "If I kiss you right now, will it taste like blood?"

She watched his eyes widen in surprise and interest. "I can drink some water," he offered. "Or wine or something, if you're really worried."

Thanks to Rangiku, there was more than enough alcohol in the house. Tōshirō rinsed his mouth with water and then vodka, drinking down a shot for good measure. He turned to face her, the expectant look on his face very endearing.

Rukia tucked herself into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She leaned forward but then immediately pulled back.

"I forgot to tell you something," she said and his face fell. She smiled, touching the back of his neck soothingly. "We're hiring a new witch," she continued. "From District Two, Soi-Fon or something. There'll be four of us now, so Ukitake is going to have us work in shifts. I suddenly have more free time on my hands."

Tōshirō smiled at her. "Do you have any plans?" he asked.

She nodded. "Lots. I'm going to start with this though." She leaned forward, mouth a hair's breadth away from his.

He pulled back this time, giving her a little grin as she blinked in confusion.

"I forgot something as well," he said.

She frowned, waiting for him to continue. Tōshirō wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. He brought his face as close to hers as possible while still being able to look into her eyes.

"I love you, too," he said softly.

Rukia froze for a moment. Then she chuckled lightly. "Cheater," she murmured against his mouth. "You _know_ I'm not going to reject you." And she kissed him, feeling the way his lips smiled.

A minute or a lifetime could have passed in that kitchen that night, Rukia didn't know. All she knew was that it finally felt like everything had slotted back neatly into place in her world.

**Author's Note:**

> Holy hell, this is a long one-shot. I just couldn't resist some world-building and exploration. It's such a fun little monster world.
> 
> Are vampire romances still a thing? Am I really that old? I'm not too keen on the ~smexy~ blood thing so I made it an inconvenience here. Tōshirō's not that essential to the story if he were a full werewolf, I think, but the blood thing is too cumbersome if he were a full vampire so I give you…vampirewolf.
> 
> I really just wanted to write a Halloween themed story and since I'm no good at horror, I went for more of a Halloween-town kind of scene. There are some meta clues and Easter Eggs that I had fun writing though. Did you pick up on them?
> 
> I listened to Dua Lipa's Dua Lipa album while writing this. It sets the tone for this story really well. If you're familiar with it, or if you give it a listen after this, you can imagine Rukia and Renji dancing to the song Genesis off that album. Also happens to be my favourite song from her.
> 
> Cheers everyone, and Happy Halloween!


End file.
